


a certain foolish refrain

by whiskerprince



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Communication and Miscommunication, Famous and Non-Famous, Gender Dysphoria, Getting Together, Jokes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Traditional Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Semi-explicit sex, Social Issues, Volleyball, Worldbuilding, omegaverse as a plot device, the author is very obviously in love with boo seungkwan, the two together are the spice of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24070768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskerprince/pseuds/whiskerprince
Summary: The art director calls, "Seungkwan-ah!" over Mingyu's shoulder and the model—Seungkwan—drops his hand and obediently trots over at the summons. Mingyu is left with the terrible certainty that if he had a tail it would be wagging hard enough to sprain.Woof, he thinks sadly.(Seungkwan is a well-known TV personality. Mingyu takes pictures of him in underwear. Against all odds, they fall in love.)
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Kim Mingyu, Kim Mingyu & Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 92
Kudos: 279





	1. In between the dreamer and the breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome. if you somehow missed the a/b/o tag on the way in, i would encourage you to stay anyway. writing a getting together fic worldbuilt around a controversial kink trope probably isn't the _best_ way to enter carat ao3 but go big or go home, right? jokes aside, i am incredibly excited to start writing for seventeen and hope i will be here for a long time.  
>   
> quick notes before you begin, as i write omegaverse to my personal specifications:  
>   
> \- ABO gene is incompletely dominant, meaning that alpha-beta-omega exists on a spectrum as opposed to absolutes. low betas and low alphas have a recessive omega allele, while high alphas and high betas are homozygous for the alpha and beta allele, respectively. this distinction affects their behavior towards alphas and omegas during heat and rut.  
>   
> \- the Season occurs once a year and is when heat/rut synchronize for everyone in the North or South Hemisphere, dependent on when autumn is  
>   
> \- alphas have strong pheromones but weaker bodies. betas have no pheromones but strong bodies. omegas have strong bodies as well, but are vulnerable to pheromonal influence at the height of their heats

Mingyu stands coins up in the coin tray of the washer machine one by one. His thumbs are too big and clumsy and he keeps knocking them out of their slots and onto the ground. Loses one to the dusty underbelly of the machine as usual. When finally five are standing up, he grunts and gives the tray a push. The machine accepts his money with a cheerful musical jingle and the control board lights up. Mingyu pulls his assortment of colorful, half-filled bottles of detergent out of the laundry basket and tucks them into the crook of his arm. With his free hand, he pelts whites into the washer and punches in their combination on the control board. He juggles the detergents to find the one he's looking for and he must look some kind of pathetic, trying to pour detergent into a measuring cap with bottles clenched against his side and chest and arms, because a voices pipes up from behind him. "Can I...can I help you hold anything...?"

Mingyu turns, blindly fixing his smile on the person behind him. A girl his age, Ewha Woman's University written on her soft pink sweatshirt, very clearly trying to hold in a laugh with how she's sucking in her lips. Mingyu's smile turns bashful and he smothers an embarrassed laugh. "You know? I would appreciate that."

She successfully wrangles the bottles from the iron grip of his forearm and elbow, shaking the hair from her face. A smug smile climbs across her face. "You really could have just put them down."

Mingyu laughs for real. "I thought I had it!"

"Uh-huh."

"It's for efficiency's sake, see, if I don't waste time putting them down—"

"Uh-huh."

"—then...well...I don't waste time putting them down—I thought it was a good idea at the time, okay!"

" _So_ much time saved," she teases. Mingyu rolls his eyes and takes the fabric softener from her hand.

"I have a _system_." He measures out the fabric softener and pours it into the dish. "But, uh, I can admit that system sucks. Thanks."

"Sure thing."

She helps Mingyu load his lights and darks as well, cheerfully keeping up conversation about vacuuming and hang dry versus dryer and how washing dishes is the worst chore, overwhelmingly. They're not the only patrons of the laundromat this time of day—seven in the evening, right after sundown—but with the white noise of tumbling laundry and the pastoral, echoing _enka_ that the owner liked to play over the loudspeakers, no one minds their idle chatter. Mingyu takes the bottles from her at the end of it, gesturing to the delicates he has to hand wash, and she leaves him to it with a wave.

Mingyu wears a little smile as he tends to his delicate shirts and even as he switches over his laundry from wash to dry. He's just finished plugging the last drying combo in on the machine when he hears a polite cough behind him. He turns to see the girl from earlier, her laundry roughly folded and piled into a basket at her side. She's digging the toe of her shoe into the checkerboard linoleum, smiling but not looking at Mingyu. He realizes, suddenly, what this is.

"So..." she starts. "It was pretty cool talking with you."

"Yeah," Mingyu says, the corners of his lips turning up. "Even though we only talked about chores."

"Um. Yeah." Her ears are absolutely burning and Mingyu's heart twinges. _So cute_. "Well...I...um, if you were okay with it or whatever...maybe some time we could, like. I don't know."

"Uh-huh?" Mingyu teases.

She groans and rolls her eyes. "C'mon man, I'm struggling here! This really isn't my forte, you know." She huffs. "Usually they come to me, but you're really hot, so—"

Mingyu's smile freezes and his heart drops to his stomach. He tries not to be obvious but he parts his lips to inhale her scent, drawing it across the roof of his mouth. She flushes for real. "That's, uh, forward of you—"

Omega. Of course. It's hard to tell with the laundry smells up his nose, which is probably why he hadn't noticed at first. Why she hadn't noticed. Mingyu feels his face shape itself into apologetic softness. "I'm sorry," he hears himself say as if from another room. "I'm not a beta."

She blinks, eyebrows pulling together. For a single, mortifying moment, Mingyu thinks she might not believe him. But then she also opens her mouth and breathes in his scent and her eyes widen. "Oh, shit," she says. "I'm sorry, I thought that—um. Well, like, maybe a low beta but..."

 _But not a full-blooded omega_. She doesn't need to say it. Mingyu knows.

"Yeah," he says. Brittle.

And then, because he can't bear the awkward stillness of half a question, he says, "Not your type, right?"

"Oh, that's not..." she starts, but they already know the truth. Her scent has the faintest edge of guilt. Of wanting to take back the offer of going for coffee, or whatever. "Just not what I expected."

"Yeah," Mingyu says. "I get that a lot."

She's quiet for a moment, but then, resolute, gathers her laundry and without looking Mingyu in the eye and says, "I'll see you around?" She doesn't wait for an answer and Mingyu doesn't give her one. He's grateful for the tumbling clothes covering their conversation and the general disinterest of the other patrons. In one corner, a mom herding her two twins; in the other a middle-aged man is sitting on top of a dryer in front of his wash, reading a book. Mingyu slides to the ground and lets the dryer bump against his head. He's too tired, suddenly, to be mad or sad or disappointed.

Throughout the laundromat, the crackling, soulful voice of a man croons, _Nakiguse sakeguse namidaguse...Doko e itta ka hosoi kague..._

\---XXX---

It's no one's fault. People can't help who they are attracted to. And Mingyu can't help being himself. It's no one's fault—it's just unfortunate that Mingyu looks like something he is not.

He was born big. A big heavy, 3-weeks-late infant whose weight eventually stretched across a long, gangly frame. He was always taller than his classmates, but his parents and doctors assumed he had hit his growth spurt early. Even when he presented—omega, expected, given his omega parents—he was in the 72nd percentile. Big, but not unnaturally so. But Mingyu kept growing and filling out. Taller, stronger, thicker. His voice deepened before his classmates and was the deepest even after they joined him. The first time he got sorted into the beta team for soccer, he had laughed and made a joke of it with his friends. The thirty-first time, not so much.

He looks like a beta. Talks like a beta. Towers over his managers, both as beta as one can get. Because of a medical condition he even _smells_ like a beta when he's not in heat. He can't blame omegas and betas for approaching him with that assumption. But that doesn't mean he has to like it.

Mingyu is smacked on top of the head with a paper fan. He looks over his shoulder to see his manager, Sangyeon, sweating and giving him a flat look. "Quit your moping, man. Focus." He's been running himself ragged checking that all the equipment is in place and functional and their coworkers aren't zombies behind the wheel (camera, lights, set, what-the-fuck-ever). Kind of like Mingyu right now, zoning out as he cleans his lens.

"I'm not moping," Mingyu says sullenly.

"Uh-huh." _Wow_ , Mingyu did _not_ expect a single word to hurt his feelings that badly. "Okay, well, quit your not-moping. You're gonna make our model weep. Have you ever seen a weeping lingerie model?"

"Sounds _Vogue_."

"Ugh," Sangyeon says, making a face. He starts to fan himself again. " _Ugh_ , it kind of does. This is Victoria's Secret though, so—"

"So keep the model happy and keep the lighting guys happy and keep the art director happy—"

"—and by doing all of that, keep Seungmin happy." Sangyeon nods. "You got it. Did you read the brief?"

If brief could really be used to describe it. Was it necessary for the marketing director to use so many words for what amounted to 'chic but flirty gender-neutral fashion'? It wasn't even that revolutionary. Still, _Victoria's Secret_... "I read it. Listen to the big cheese's spiel, do exactly as he says, and then tolerate the nitpicky verbal abuse until Seungmin steps in to help."

"I think it's called constructive criticism."

"It is," Mingyu says. " _If_ it's constructive." They share twin long-suffering looks.

The sound of something crashing to the floor at the back of the studio interrupts their pity party. Sangyeon says something very rude about their coworkers' parents and upbringing and takes a couple heavy steps in the direction of the noise before he pauses and turns back to Mingyu. "About what's bothering you," he says, frowning. "I'm shit at the feelings stuff but I'll give you your bonus early, okay? After the shoot. Remind me." He stalks off in the direction of some undoubtedly quivering intern.

Mingyu's heart gives a couple loud, affectionate thuds. He hadn't even known he was due for a bonus.

He checks the zoom on his camera and takes a few test shots to adjust the shutter speed. Sangyeon is too soft on him. And that—that is Mingyu's fault. It's easy enough to treat him like one of the betas, especially when he can scuffle like the best of those rough boys, but once someone gets to know him his omega nature becomes glaringly obvious. He's so touchy—physically and emotionally—that he unintentionally drags out their protective instincts. And yeah, cry _'toxic dominance!'_ all you want, but Mingyu doesn't mind when the alphas and high betas he's close to speak gentler around him and hold doors open for him and bring him a can of soda even when he didn't ask. Is he taking advantage of their instincts? A little. He swears he's working on it, but it's hard when the subconscious kindness he gets from his coworkers is the closest he gets to being seen for the person he is.

He's desirable—that much remains the same, freakish size be damned. He's had the usual stream of boyfriends and girlfriends and ill-advised hookups in his youth that one would expect with a face like his; betas and omegas who found the dichotomy between appearance and personality charming. A couple quite serious. But even his two-year boyfriend, a handsome, mild beta who always made Mingyu laugh until he squeaked, wanted Mingyu to be something else. Not as a person; not at first. But when the sex isn't what you want, the personal flaws suddenly become much less tolerable.

Okay, wow, dwelling on the past, total yuck. Mingyu hangs the camera around his neck and slaps his cheeks a couple times. He catches the eye of Dawon, the prop manager, arms crossed as she surveys the set. She pretends to scratch her nose to cover up her laugh. Mingyu grins at her and she makes a shooing motion, mouthing 'distracting!' Mood buoyed, Mingyu checks his flash just as Seungmin's voice reaches his ears, indistinct but getting closer rapidly.

Seungmin leads the art director into their studio, trailed by his army of Victoria's Secret staff all in smart, matching uniforms. Mingyu feels stupidly self-conscious in his black sweater and cuffed jeans even though _their_ company's dress code is relaxed. Man, it wouldn’t be so uncomfortable if they acted like robots, but the Victoria's Secret staff are infuriatingly casual and comfortable as they set up hair and makeup. Mingyu wants to do something stupid, like go over and offer to carry their travel bags for them and try to make friends. _So cool_. He tugs on his cap and buries his nose in triple-checking settings instead.

Of course, he isn't left alone for long. Seungmin approaches him with art director in tow, a thin man with tasteful eyeshadow and a wide beige trenchcoat over high-waisted pants and heeled boots. He doesn't smile, but he speaks clearly and lightly when he explains the concept behind this line of lingerie.

"It's about having fun with gender," he says. "Sexy and chic, but unafraid to cross the lines between alpha, beta, and omega. Both to liven up the sex life of steady couples and to give a curious, playful edge to singles. There's something so inherently sexy about an alpha who puts away the glitter and lace to go for plain, unfiltered confidence. Or an omega who's willing to become a sparkling gem, even when they've already got their partner tongue-tied."

"Pretending to be something you're not?" Mingyu blurts before he can stop himself. Seungmin flays him alive with a look, but the director only quirks the corner of his mouth.

"Or becoming something you weren't allowed to be." Mingyu has nothing to say to that. "We have six models with six different atmospheres for each shoot. I believe you were briefed about them..."

As expected, the day is brutal. It helps that the director is thoughtful and calm, but he's just as critical as Mingyu and Sangyeon had feared. It's less of an issue of Mingyu's expertise and more of a particularity about the aforementioned 'atmosphere.' By the time they finish shooting the fourth model, Mingyu is starting to think their lighting techs deserve a bonus more than him. The director steps away for a moment to fuss at the stylists and Mingyu takes that moment to sink into his chair behind the computer and press his forehead to the cool surface of the table. Maybe if he's quick enough, a micronap...

A kitten sneeze to his left. "Ugh," Seungmin groans. "I think the stress of this contract is giving me a cold."

Mingyu turns his head. Seungmin's foundation is flawless as ever, but it's impossible to completely hide the tired bags pulling on his eyes and his heavy lids. He looks small in business casual, his legs and shoulder shrunk to that of a teen's. "You should take off," Mingyu says, frowning.

"Eager much?" Seungmin jokes, but he dabs at the corner of his eyes in an effort to keep from rubbing them.

"Maybe a cold is what you need to take you out for a couple days. Just sleep for forty-eight hours. Forget Kiku's hungover ass—you look like the real zombie on set."

"Whatever," Seungmin says. "I have a backlog of scheduling to do for the February-March shoots."

"And there isn't some bright-eyed and bushy-tailed intern willing to rack up that secretarial experience?"

"I cannot trust our company's future to a _nineteen-year-old_."

"Control freak."

"Perfectionist."

They glare weakly at each other until the director returns. "Sorry for the delay," he says. "Last minute fix on the fit."

"Not a problem," Seungmin says, mustering his customer-service smile. "What's your direction for this scene?"

Unexpectedly, he waves a hand. "Don't worry about it. Seungkwan is a talent. Same angles as 2 and 3, but he'll do most of the work. Might have to adjust the lighting a bit..."

 _Naturally_. Mingyu stands up and moves towards the set, where the model is getting last minute makeup touchups. The makeup artist smiles and fights back a laugh at whatever he's saying. He goes to touch her wrist and she laughs out loud, smacking his hand gently, then making a mock-affronted expression when he draws his 'wounded' hand to his chest. She's smiling a moment later. Dating, maybe? Mingyu approaches them slowly to give warning. The artist catches Mingyu's eye and pats the model on his hand and hurries off set. Mingyu catches his side profile as he turns his head to follow her, and then his eyes are on Mingyu.

Mingyu rocks back on his heels, automatically taking a half-step back. "Whoa," he says out loud, almost subconscious.

The model is _intense_ , from the way his eyes flash to Mingyu's, to the cursory top-to-bottom appraisal he gives Mingyu a moment later, to the knife-sharp eye makeup and winding black lingerie flush against his skin beneath the robe draped casually over his shoulders. After dealing with the other models who ranged from cold to bored, approaching this one feels like volunteering to have boiling water poured over Mingyu's head. That kind of _intense_.

And then, not even two breaths later, the model's guarded stance relaxes into contrapposto and he pulls a face, the bridge of his nose and the corners of his eyes crinkling. "It's a bit strong, isn't it? I told the makeup team I don't need cologne but something about authenticity, or whatever."

"Strong—what?" Mingyu is dazed. It clicks a moment later. "Oh. Pheromone-based cologne."

"Yes." The model sighs. "Wooseok-hyung and Eunwoo-hyung complained about it earlier in the dressing room. I've been trying—" he produces a paper fan from seemingly nowhere, "—to dispel the stench a bit but I think I might be making it worse." He fans his neck with a mildly embarrassed smile.

He's an alpha. Mingyu supposes he should have guessed from his small stature, but he isn't in the habit of assuming second genders. He sniffs lightly, hoping he won't offend the model but too curious to resist. The words are out before he can think better of them: "Oh. Wow."

The model scrunches his face again. "Right?"

The perfume coats the back of Mingyu's nasal cavity and the back of his throat and he coughs into his hand. "That's, uh, a bit strong." It's a high-quality cologne—lighting up all the right neurons, making Mingyu's brain buzz with interest—and barely detectable as artificial, but beneath the overwhelming scent of like, leather and green tea, there's another, fuller note. Warm and human and indescribable. It pings on Mingyu's animal instinct radar and in equal parts makes him want to draw away, hackles raised, and follow his nose until he's pressed against the source. He shakes his head clear of the pheromones.

The model lets the silence stretch between them for a moment before he prompts, "So—"

"Oh!" Mingyu says. "Sorry, I just wanted to check if you had any last-minute details you'd like to go over. I'm the photographer." Mingyu gestures to the camera around his neck unnecessarily.

"Ah," the model says, tapping his fist to his palm. "Okay, let’s see…I look better from below. And shoot my left side for the promotional poster. And from behind, of course." He says the last one with a knowing smile, like he and Mingyu are in on some personal joke. He says it like only an idiot would think to go against him. There is a lot of direct eye contact.

This is...a little different. The alphas Mingyu knows are either boring, shallow narcissists or lazy do-nothings bumming around until the next opportunity in life or lovers drops into their laps. Or they're Minghao. But never this—this unflagging confidence, this relentless intensity. Charisma tipping the balance between wary and enraptured until Mingyu can feel the way he's subconsciously angling to lean closer.

"Right. Yes. I can do that." He thinks. Probably. Mingyu's head is strangely fuzzy at the edges.

The model claps Mingyu on his upper arm and winks. "Thanks, big guy."

The art director calls, "Seungkwan-ah!" over Mingyu's shoulder and the model—Seungkwan—drops his hand and obediently trots over at the summons. Mingyu is left with the terrible certainty that if he had a tail it would be wagging hard enough to sprain.

 _Woof_ , he thinks sadly.

The art director is right about Seungkwan being a talent. He's patient through the lighting adjustments and makeup touchups and replies with a bright "Got it!" when the director makes a suggestion. As a model, he is striking. Aware of every inch of his skin and the limits of his expressions, he makes a masterpiece of himself. A toe skimming the edge of the bathtub. Knuckles pressed to the hollow of his throat. Kneeling with his legs spread as he leans back to freeze in the process of pulling off his robe. Covering the corner of his smile with the back of his hand. And when he looks into Mingyu's lens, that same initial intensity sticks Mingyu like a needle through the barrier of metal and glass and hardware.

He rushes to Mingyu's side after each of the scenes while the props are being switched to preview the shots. His shoulder touches Mingyu's arm and one of the Victoria's Secret stylists fusses at his bangs and he says, "Oh, you're good, aren't you?" He flits away from Mingyu a moment later, but the hairs on Mingyu's arms stay raised and prickling until Seungmin snaps _hello, Earth to Kim Mingyu?_

Mingyu is a professional. Lingerie shoots are not as sexy as one would think; too much time spent on worrying over angles and lighting and eight managers and directors breathing over his shoulder to get excited about whatever the product is and how aesthetically pleasing it looks on the models. Something about the network of wires crisscrossing the cement studio floor and the legs of tripods reaching out to trip unsuspecting workers takes the sex appeal out of a shoot. And that's not different now, with Seungkwan, because Mingyu is still stressed as hell—more so, actually—but he feels too self-aware, like he's a robot skinned with a layer of flesh and every movement is jerky and inorganic.

It's not quite, _'Is he looking? Is he watching me?'_ but it feels uncomfortably close.

Must be the damn theme of the shoot. Even Seungmin has shown hints of beyond-bland-professional interest in the products. Gaudy alpha fashion on betas and skimpy beta fashion on omegas is unusual enough to turn heads. Mingyu caught Sangyeon with his tongue between his teeth, trying not to laugh at the jewel encrusted bra on one of the beta models and mouthing _peacock_ to the prop manager. The strategic, career-focused lobe of Mingyu's brain is pleased that the photos from such a sensational ad campaign will be credited to him.

Seungkwan in the plain, almost conservative boxers and shiny silk robe that barely covers the tops of his shoulders and pools at his feet, by comparison, should not make one excited. The artfully sloppy tie of the sash around his bare stomach should not draw one's eyes. But Seungkwan has a way of making people _look_ at him.

He reminds Mingyu of Minghao, how Minghao could draw eyes simply by walking through the door. How the volume of a room didn't swallow his soft voice but dropped to accommodate it. His presence was so subtle that if he were another person, he might go unnoticed altogether. But with the crossing of one leg over the other or the laying of a palm flat against the table, Minghao commanded attention.

But unlike Minghao, Seungkwan's presence draws attention by being so striking that one cannot even pretend not to notice him. If he were dressed in alpha fashion, designed on principle to make everyone look at the wearer, Seungkwan might have shone too bright to look at, but in omega fashion the effect is almost worse, because he _can_ be looked at. Seungkwan's presence wakes up the subtle clothes he wears, turns them from plain and efficient to barely restraining the force of the sun. He wears the lingerie like armor, like a god. Mingyu understands, emphatically, why the art director chose Seungkwan to model this particular line. It feels like a crime to press the shutter and to capture Seungkwan's glory on such an unworthy medium.

The shoot progresses so smoothly that before Mingyu has time to get lost in his own head, it's over. Seungkwan bows and shouts "Thank you for your hard work!" before jogging to the changing room. Mingyu is left strangely empty, staring at the bathtub on set and trying to imagine how such a dull prop had him holding his breath a minute earlier. He reports to Seungmin before he gets smacked upside the head.

It takes a good ten minutes into the last shoot before Mingyu realizes that Seungkwan-the-model is the same Seungkwan as Boo Seungkwan, long-time _Weekly Idol_ MC, vocal trainer on the survival show _Crown Debut_ , and the host for last year's Chuseok Music Festival in Seoul. Mingyu had seen him model in ads before, but somehow it never occurred to him that Boo Seungkwan might roll up to Mingyu's own workplace someday. Not that he was an especially avid fan of Boo Seungkwan's; he was always entertaining and friendly when Mingyu happened upon his shows, but never enough for Mingyu to follow his social media. Still...pretty cool that he got to talk to such a famous person. _The_ Boo Seungkwan said he was good at photography. Yeah...pretty cool.

Mingyu presses his fingers to his temples. Or it would be if he didn't have this lingering fucking curiosity about pressing his face to the underside of Boo Seungkwan's jaw.

It's not a crime to be attracted to that intensity, but Mingyu really liked the way Boo Seungkwan was thoughtfully self-effacing without losing any of his confidence. He liked the way Boo Seungkwan talked casually with him even though they'd just met in a workplace setting. It's no wonder that makeup artist had been so comfortable playing around with him—Boo Seungkwan had a way of making even the least visible people on set feel seen and heard. He likes the way Boo Seungkwan makes him feel. He likes it a lot. He's aware, distantly, that this is a stupid train of thought to follow, but the louder, cheery part of himself says, _Well, you'll never know until you try!_ as Sangyeon passes Mingyu to facilitate in studio breakdown.

Mingyu catches his arm. "Hyung, quick question."

Sangyeon stops and turns, flashing Mingyu a smile. "Oh, Mingyu. I haven't forgotten the bonus; just give me a moment to—"

"Not about that," Mingyu says.

"Oh? Shoot," Sangyeon says.

Mingyu takes a deep breath and says in a rush, "That model, the alpha, the one with the curtains and the tub—"

"Who?" Sangyeon's brows furrow. His eyes leave Mingyu's momentarily to skewer one of their coworkers over Mingyu's shoulder, accompanied by the stab of his index finger. They return to Mingyu. "One of the models?"

Mingyu tries not to fidget, licks his lips. "Yeah, you know the, uh. The alpha. Seungkwan-ssi."

"I guess?"

"Do you, like," Mingyu lowers his voice, speaks fast, "have a way to get in contact with him or his manager or something?"

"What?" Sangyeon's brows furrow further. "He give you some kind of trouble?"

"No," Mingyu says patiently.

"Then why do you need to get in contact with him? We're not gonna be seeing those guys again, Mingyu. Contract's up after today." Sangyeon makes a big, sweeping arm movement at another person over Mingyu's shoulder.

Mingyu waits.

Sangyeon seems to realize he isn't going to elaborate. He throws Mingyu an exasperated look, but catches on a moment later. He pulls a face. "Aw, hell no. That brat? No, Minggoo, no. Just...no."

"Do you or don't you," Mingyu says tightly, "because I'm not above asking Seungmin—"

"Bro, why," Sangyeon groans. "Did you not pick up what he was throwing down? Marching around like he owns the whole place...alphas _suck_ , dude. A guy smells like garlic and onion sauteed in butter and suddenly he thinks everything he touches is gold just 'cause he can be mistaken for a meal."

"I don't—what?"

"You want his number, right?" Sangyeon shakes his head. "Can't help you. I'm not looking to throw one of my boys at some stinking turd. Unconscionable."

"Because he's an _alpha?_ " Mingyu cries. " _Jeonghan-hyung_ is an alpha!"

"Yoon Jeonghan's funny though," Sangyeon says. "And he sucks at basketball. Like, hilariously bad. Besides, it's not the alpha thing—though, for real, bad taste—it's the attitude thing. Not enough room in our entire warehouse for his ego."

 _Betas_. Mingyu rolls his eyes. "Okay, I'll go ask Seungmin."

"Don't say I didn't warn you!" Sangyeon calls after him as Mingyu stalks away.

Unfortunately, Seungmin isn't any help either. He frowns at Mingyu's request, not in the down-with-alpha-scum way but the I-am-alarmed;-lecture-incoming way, which is arguably worse. "I can't just give you that information," Seungmin says, bemused. "That's a violation of our contract? Models deserve their privacy, too; especially someone like Boo Seungkwan who has a past of stalking behavior from fans—"

"Okaysorryforasking," Mingyu says and flees before Seungmin can start to lecture in earnest.

 _Not meant to be_ , a voice like Minghao's sighs in the back of Mingyu's mind. He tries not to let himself be disappointed, but after the awkward night at the laundromat, Mingyu is too bummed to cheer himself up. It just sucks! He's busy—he loves being busy, loves his work—but being busy means he doesn't meet people outside his coworkers and his old university friends. He _tries_. At Minghao's mixers; at Seokmin's cast parties; he is bubbly, he wears low-cut shirts, he puts on a touch of makeup. He gets drinks with new acquaintances; he goes home with them, too. He smiles with teeth the entire night and he makes the pretense of keeping their numbers but in his gut there's this constant pulse of _wrong, wrong, wrong_.

Naive, maybe, to think all his problems could be solved by hooking up with a cute guy he met briefly on set. Alright, definitely. But Mingyu's never-failing optimism is his key charm. Tilt your head and pull your brows together at the right angle and smile while pouting for long enough and anyone will bend. Mingyu's the worm in the apple—once he burrows in someone's heart there's no getting him out.

He zips up his camera bag, adjusts the strap across his chest. Pulls on his jacket. Tucks his laptop and tablet in his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. Can't be helped about that Boo Seungkwan guy, even though Mingyu can't trick himself into not feeling disappointed. He skulks out of the studio and down the hallway. Could've been a jerk after all. What's it Minghao always says... _what will be, will be_. _What's real needn't be forced_. Or something equally Aristotelian.

 _It's **Kafka** , you oaf. Like speaking to a blunt gardening tool..._ Mingyu can hear the smile in Minghao's resigned sigh. He pushes open the door to their building and steps into the alley, squeezing his eyes against the sunlight. Maybe he'll call Hao today, he thinks as he fumbles for his ballcap. They have brunch on Monday but that's not for another two and a half days.

"Hold the door, please!" someone calls from behind Mingyu. He spins around to catch the door, hopping on one foot to keep his balance.

"Thank you," Boo Seungkwan says, waddling out the door with a phone in one hand and a purse (could it be called a purse if it was the size of his torso?) clutched in the other. He's in a giant beige trenchcoat Mingyu recognizes as belonging to the art director and a peachy turtleneck this time—though what was Mingyu expecting? Marching out in underwear?

Boo Seungkwan squints into the sun with his whole face, the blue circle lenses of his sunglasses doing almost nothing to save him from the brightness. He squints at Mingyu. "Sorry, could you direct me to Eulji-ro? I set my location there," he waves the rideshare app open on his phone at Mingyu, "but I'm not familiar with the area."

"Uh," Mingyu says intelligently.

Boo Seungkwan offers him a patient (if squinty) smile.

"Yes—of course, yes, sorry," Mingyu says, mentally throwing a blanket over the neon sign in his head flashing 'AH FUCK' over and over. "You just need to follow this alley and take a right at the side road, then walk until you hit the main drag. Taxis usually pick up at the corner of the block. It's a couple minutes’ walk; you good on time?"

Boo Seungkwan scowls at his phone. "Three minutes?"

"Yeah, that's—yeah," Mingyu says, nodding his head a couple hundred times. Then: "Do you want me to walk you there?"

 _Why, in God's name, did he ask_ —

"Oh, god, would you?" Boo Seungkwan says, relieved. "I usually take the company car, I'm not—" He flaps his wrist absently, "good at this kind of thing."

"It's no trouble," Mingyu says. "I, ah, work here. I know the tricks." To catching a cab. Mother Nature's finest work in brilliance, everyone: Kim Mingyu.

Boo Seungkwan doesn't seem to mind. He follows Mingyu's lead, head tucked down and furiously texting. They walk in silence, anticipation a millstone in Mingyu's chest. He spends approximately fourteen seconds trying to come up with an opening line before he gives up and goes with, "It's...Boo Seungkwan, right?"

Boo Seungkwan glances up from his phone with a flat smile Mingyu recognizes as politely distancing. "Ah, yes," he says lightly. "You recognize me?"

"No—well, uh, yes. Not immediately. I helped with your shoot today."

That gets his attention. Boo Seungkwan looks up from his phone at Mingyu until it clicks, visibly, and his face breaks into a genuine smile. "The photographer!" And then, shrinking to a self-chastising, shyer look. "Sorry, I didn't recognize you with the—" he gestures to Mingyu's glasses and jacket. "That's embarrassing; I apologize."

Mingyu touches his glasses without thinking. "Oh! Yeah, I don't wear them when shooting. More comfortable." He pushes them up the bridge of his nose with his knuckles. "I'm amazed you recognize me at all."

Boo Seungkwan laughs. "Isn't it good manners? Besides..." He mimes stretching out a tape measure. "Kind of hard to miss a guy with your height. I'm envious." This smile is curled at the edges, secretive, lips pursed. Watching him talk is like watching an actor on set or being front row at one of Seokmin's shows. So unexpectedly exhilarating and real that Mingyu is helpless to fight the smile splitting his face.

"You're good at modeling," Mingyu says. "I mean, well, of course. But the art director praised you before the shoot even began."

"Eundong-hyung?" Boo Seungkwan rolls his eyes, though not unkindly. "He lays it on thick at times. I appreciate it, though. You say 'of course,' but just because one can do entertainment doesn't mean they make a good model. I used to be so stiff!" He laughs then trails off, covering his mouth with his hand. "I have a habit of blabbering on, please excuse me."

"No, that's—" Mingyu takes a breath, summons his courage, and leaps. "I actually wanted to talk to you more. I know we only exchanged a few words but you, ah, seem...fun."

"Fun," Boo Seungkwan says, raising his eyebrows. "I'm flattered."

"Interesting," Mingyu corrects, letting out a sigh. "I don't usually trip over my words quite this much."

"No? He's tall and looks smart _and_ is a smooth talker? One can only wonder why there isn't a line forming."

"What gives you the idea I'm smart?" Mingyu asks, puzzled.

"I meant you dress smart," Seungkwan says, definitely smiling now.

They're walking along the main street now, Seungkwan's borrowed coat fluttering with the breeze from passing cars and Mingyu's too-long bangs getting in his eyes. If Mingyu's life were a movie, this would be the moment Seungkwan spun around to face him and offer a flirty line about getting drinks some time, but unfortunately Mingyu's life is Mingyu's stupid little life and he is the idiot behind the wheel, so instead he stumbles over a raised paver and says things that even his good looks can't save.

"Oh," Mingyu says, ducking his head. "Well. Luckily we're here and you can catch your cab and we both can pretend this conversation never happened."

"So soon. Are your flirtations usually this short-lived?"

"Just the ones I've seen in their underwear, I guess," Mingyu mumbles. Boo Seungkwan's eyebrows rise further. Mingyu blinks and plays the conversation back in his head. His eyes widen and he sputters. "Not—not like—I didn't mean—" He presses his hands to his face. In English, " _Oh my god_."

Mingyu has never been so grateful for the arrival of a cab. Maybe if he mashes his hands against his face hard enough he will go blind and never have to see the look on Boo Seungkwan's face. Boo Seungkwan, who hasn't moved to leave and free Mingyu of this prison of a conversation. Mingyu drags his hands down his face and looks up miserably.

Boo Seungkwan is holding his phone out to Mingyu. Mingyu stares at it blankly. Turns his blank stare to Boo Seungkwan when he shows no sign of taking it back.

He rolls his eyes—the same way he had when speaking of the art director, fondly—and says, "Go on. I won't make any promises, but."

 _Go on? And do what?_ Mingyu takes his phone hesitantly. His eyes shoot to Boo Seungkwan's as soon as he looks over the screen. "You want me to give you my number?"

"Aren't you offering?" Boo Seungkwan volleys back.

Literally yeah, sure, but Mingyu hadn't even thought to fantasize this far. He inputs his name and number in a daze and hands the phone back to Boo Seungkwan.

"Kim Mingyu," he says, holding the phonemes delicately and precisely in his mouth. Mingyu feels electrified, like a circuit board fried past the point of functionality. Boo Seungkwan has an almost-smile on his face. He meets Mingyu's eyes and wags the phone. "No promises," he reminds Mingyu sternly.

"I—yeah," Mingyu says stupidly. "I didn't even mean for any of this to—work. I... _Did_ it work?"

Boo Seungkwan purses his lips; casts his eyes skywards in thought. "Hmm...four out of ten."

That's fair.

"But you're silly," Boo Seungkwan says. "In a way that makes me think we'd have a lot laughs together." He turns and opens the door to the cab, tossing his bag in. "I'm working this weekend," he explains. "If I'm still thinking about you after work I'll text you. Sound fair?"

Mingyu nods too much, again. Boo Seungkwan purses his lips, in a way Mingyu now recognizes as fighting down a laugh. "Thanks for the directions, Mr. Kim."

"You should do that," Mingyu blurts out. "Think about me, I mean."

Boo Seungkwan climbs into the cab and closes the door without another word, but through the tinted window Mingyu can see him smiling.

\---XXX---

"You're doing it again," Minghao says, sighing. "That face."

"I was born with this face," Mingyu says, affronted. A little guilty.

Minghao gazes wistfully across the cafe. "If I had known you would be this unbearable once you found the right person, I wouldn't have introduced you to so many of my single friends."

"I'm not doing anything," Mingyu argues.

"You're _yearning_ ," Minghao says. "And it's disgusting. Less is more, Jay Gatsby."

"Obvious," Mingyu says. "You can do better than that."

"Less is more, Nick Carraway."

Mingyu tries not to smile. "Acceptable."

He might be yearning a little bit. After that fever dream of a Friday, Mingyu hadn't dared to hope, but before noon on Saturday, there it was, the text saying, _'Have you ever been to Japan?'_ from an unknown number with a Seoul area code sitting innocently in his inbox.

 _'Yes, on a work trip,'_ Mingyu replied. _'And hello to you too.'_

_'Are conveyor belt sushi restaurants as dismal in Japan as they are in Seoul?'_

Two minutes of silence, and then a follow up: _'Hello. I didn't expect to text you so soon, but you've been on my mind.'_

Another minute, then: _'The concept of conveyor sushi is so sexy but the execution is, in a word, subpar.'_

Mingyu was unpracticed in holding back his laughter and had to bite his knuckle to keep back a hysterical giggle. Boo Seungkwan was texting him. Boo Seungkwan was thinking about him. What kind of life was this, even.

Mingyu replied: _'Hate to burst your bubble, but it's just as much of a tourist trap :/'_

 _'Consider the illusion shattered,'_ Seungkwan replied. _'Dingo has too much money to be playing with my stomach like this.'_ And again, after a couple minutes silence, _'Let's go somewhere expensive. I feel like I'm forgetting what good sashimi is supposed to taste like with every minute that passes.'_

That was the start.

Since then, Mingyu has patiently pretended to learn for the first time that Seungkwan is from Jeju-do, that he is a year younger than Mingyu, that he had a career as a soloist before his talent for variety set him on the route of MC and entertainer, as if Mingyu had not pulled up Seungkwan's page on Naver the moment his cab was out of sight. Seungkwan is a volleyball superfan and followed the Korean team to the last Olympics; Seungkwan will eat anything put in front of him regardless of how much he complains; Seungkwan hates bugs and the cold; Seungkwan cares about fashion unless it conflicts with his opinion on hats; and Seungkwan wants a picture of Mingyu.

 _'I'm famous so it's easy enough to find photos of me,'_ Seungkwan says unselfconsciously, ' _but Kim Mingyu is on my mind constantly, it seems, and I only have one mental snapshot. Hardly fair.'_

 _'Press photos and magazines don't count,'_ Mingyu says, trying not to get distracted by the absolute bombshell, _Seungkwan wants a picture of **me**_. _'I work in the industry. Do you know how many people I photoshop a day?'_

 _'So you can count my pores and see how damaged my hair is? I don't think so.'_ But in typical Seungkwan fashion: _'Okay fine. I want a full body pic though.'_ And after another minute, ' _No baggy clothes. I have a hunch about you.'_

Whatever that means. Lucky for Seungkwan, Mingyu loves his body and is proud of the care with which he treats himself. He has many full body pics. Many with tight-fitting clothes. Many without any clothes. He picks a mirror selfie from a couple weeks ago at the gym. He's wearing tapered grey sweatpants and a black tank stuck to his body with sweat that makes his pecs look amazing. He's probably too quick to send it, but Mingyu never claimed to be subtle. No point in trying to convince Seungkwan he's a patient person.

Seungkwan replies twenty minutes later with, _'That was fast.'_ And then, just, _'Oh.'_

He goes quiet for ten minutes and Mingyu can't resist asking, _'Did it live up to expectations?'_

 _'Smugness is unbecoming, Mr. Kim,'_ Seungkwan replies. Three minutes, then, _'Exceeded them, actually. I thought you'd be skinnier.'_

Smug grin in place as his smug thumbs type his smug reply, Mingyu offers a simple, smug, _'Nope,'_ in response.

 _'I'm rolling my eyes at you,'_ Seungkwan says. _'Hang on, there's an emoji for that.'_ He sends Mingyu a string of eye-rolling emojis.

Mingyu thinks that's that until Seungkwan holds up his end of the bargain, but then half an hour later, Seungkwan texts him, _'I'm starting to think that was a cop out.'_

Mingyu takes a moment to follow, then laughs. _'Not sure how many pictures I have of me in skinny jeans, but if it will please Mr. Boo...'_

 _'No, that's not what I meant,'_ Seungkwan says. _'I get the feeling you have a little thirst trap library, meanwhile it seems like this phone camera has a vendetta against me. How can there not be a single flattering angle? Has my nose always looked like this? I'm starting to believe you about the photoshop thing.'_ And then, _'God, you can't just say things like that, anyway. Offering yourself up on a platter. You're unreal.'_

Mingyu shifts in place, a pleased flush spreading over his chest and shoulders. _'You want me to take a pic just for you?'_

Seungkwan leaves him on read for a long minute before replying: _'Yes.'_

Among other things.

Minghao lets out a lyrical, dramatic sigh. "The day has finally come. I'm no longer the most special alpha in Kim Mingyu's life."

Mingyu kicks him under the table. "Shut up. You're so annoying. I love you."

Minghao smiles and doesn't look at Mingyu.

"He's not that special," Mingyu lies, knowing that Minghao will know he's lying. "I just didn't know it could be like this."

"Sexual?" Minghao offers.

Mingyu kicks him again. " _Easy_. I don't have to feel so self-conscious. There's no hovering, like, expectation that I act a certain way. He's very," Mingyu licks his lips, "dominating. Of the conversation. And he's already seen me make a fool of myself and thought it was cute, so."

"And he thinks you're hot."

"Well." Mingyu straightens up and rolls his shoulders back. "Yeah."

"Does he know you're an omega?" Minghao looks at him now.

The smile falls from Mingyu's face. He looks down at his picked-over acai bowl, only a few soggy banana slices remaining. "No. I mean, maybe? It never came up."

Which is a little weird, now that Mingyu reflects on it. Their texts are a little more sophisticated than simple chatroom _age/sex/presentation/location?_ but it's still fairly standard to ask about someone's second gender when you're interested in them. Of course, Seungkwan's second gender is on his Naver page even if they hadn't talked about his cologne at the shoot, but Mingyu had never brought up his own. A tiny, hopeful part of him wonders if Seungkwan had scented him earlier and already knows Mingyu is an omega, but the realistic part knows that without cologne of his own and in a studio full of mixed scents, he is indistinguishable from a beta.

"If he's an alpha, does it even matter?" Mingyu says. "Beta or omega, he's going to be calling the shots."

"Don't be estrist," Minghao says, flicking the top of Mingyu's hand. "There are plenty of lazy alphas who make their partner do all the work. And not every alpha likes omegas." Minghao speaks from experience: he likes the bluntness of betas and how easy they are to rile up. "That's not even the issue."

Mingyu sinks into his chair.

"Don't be like that," Minghao says gently. "I can tell you like him and that he makes you happy. But you, my big-hearted and tender-hearted monster—" Minghao folds Mingyu's hand between his palms, "—you get hurt easily. And I hate seeing you hurt because some idiot can't look past their beta size kink to see that you would twist yourself into a pretzel to make them smile."

Mingyu pouts so that he won't smile. "I don't want to bring it up," he confesses.

"It will come up eventually."

"I know." Mingyu runs his thumb over the back of Minghao's hand. "But if he hasn't asked, maybe he doesn't care. And I mean, beta or not..." Mingyu gestures to himself with his free hand. "It's not like I'm hard to look at. The way he talks—I don't know, I have this feeling, you know? I don't know if it's instinct or whatever but I feel so _certain_ that our natures match."

"Omega hocus pocus?"

Mingyu pouts in earnest. "I said _instinct_."

Minghao pats his hand. "Yes, dear, your primal mate-dar is impeccable. And I'll let this go for now, I promise. All I want is for you to be prepared for that conversation, whatever the outcome may be." Minghao frowns. "And don't let him push you into a position you're uncomfortable with."

"I won't. He won't. He's not that kind of guy." Mingyu runs his free hand through his hair. "He's demanding but he doesn't push boundaries. He always leaves me an out, but I _want_ to do things for him, you know? I just—I really like him."

"Whoa there, tiger," Minghao says, the corner of his lips curling up. "You met him three days ago. Let's not turn this into _Bonded at First Sight_."

"I thought you said my mate-dar was 'impeccable.'"

"Placating you, naturally." Minghao frees his hand so he can link his fingers together and prop his chin up on his hands. "I'd say your impression of Mr. Boo is a bit, shall we say, _biased_."

Oh no. Mingyu doesn't like that smile. "Would you look at the time," he rasps. "I have to get back to my..."

"Your what?" Minghao asks sweetly.

"My...washing. Left the washer on. Gonna flood...the apartment."

"You don't have a washing machine in your apartment, Mingyu," Minghao says. "Sit down."

Mingyu sits down with a thump, shrinking back in his chair guiltily.

Minghao levels him with an amused look. "And I suppose your alpha fetish has nothing to do with your esteem for one Boo Seungkwan?"

"It's _not_ a _fetish_ ," Mingyu hisses, ears burning. "You make me sound like a pervert."

"That's because you _are_ a pervert," Minghao says. "Why, it feels like only yesterday that you tried to spy on me in r—"

"Let me die," Mingyu begs. "Please, if there's a god out there, please just let me die. Because divine intervention is the only way I'll ever be free of a mistake I made when I was _fifteen_ , seriously, are you never going to let that go?"

"Nope," Minghao says smugly.

(Minghao had struggled with his rut for the first few years after presentation—with his high metabolism, onset came swiftly and mercilessly, causing several embarrassing episodes until he was able to go on suppressants. Enter Mingyu, not even presented and morbidly curious about the whole process. When Minghao suddenly went into rut at science camp, Mingyu had accompanied him to the nurse's office—and then sat himself outside the cracked door, peering in on Minghao. It hadn't been a sexual thing, just boyish curiosity, but had ended in a lot of hysteria and embarrassment for all parties when the nurse's assistant discovered him on her way back to the infirmary. Over a decade later and it was still Minghao's favorite story to tell at parties, to Mingyu's eternal chagrin.)

"You're telling me that him being an alpha has no bearing on your interest in him whatsoever?" Minghao asks.

"I—" Mingyu purses his lips. "I don't dislike it."

"And when he _'dominates'_ the conversation, that doesn't do anything to you?"

Heat crawls up Mingyu's neck. "Not really."

Minghao waits, smiling knowingly.

Mingyu fidgets in his seat. "Of course I like it. The alpha part. That's—yeah. It's fine. But that doesn't mean it's," he drops his voice, "a _fetish_."

"You've already sent him nudes." Minghao says the question like a fact.

" _No_ ," Mingyu chokes. "No, that's—that's way too forward for three days, I wouldn't..." He swallows. "...Send more than one?"

Minghao makes a reedy noise in the back of his throat and kicks Mingyu hard.

"Ow!" Mingyu scowls and rubs his shin. Minghao is trying not to laugh.

"You're unbelievable." Mingyu pretends not to think about Seungkwan telling him, _You're unreal_. "It was the same with that other alpha, what was her name...Eleanor? I remember curating your dick pics."

Mingyu puts his face in his hands.

Minghao kicks him a couple more times but Mingyu refuses to look up. "I introduce you to a nice beta I know and you won't touch him anywhere but his elbow until you get to his place, but an alpha texts you 'pretty please' and suddenly you're belly-up and naked for them. What should I call that if not a fetish?"

"It's 2020," Mingyu mumbles through his hands. "I can be a slut if I want."

"Oh, of course; power to the sluts, all hail the sluts," Minghao says. "But you, my monster," he pulls Mingyu's hands away from his face, "are not a slut."

"Whatever," Mingyu mumbles.

"No shame in it," Minghao says, smiling. "Our fetishes are what make us who we are. You know I'll always love you, blah blah. And no offense to your subtlety, but when I send you betas and omegas and you politely decline—don't shake your head at me; I know you don't keep their numbers, it's fine—but whip around as soon as you catch a whiff of some alpha pheromones, well. I have eyes and a brain."

Mingyu swallows again. "It's really—I don't know what it is. It makes me scared and excited at the same time. I've never...with one of them. Of you." Mingyu sucks in his lips. "And...ugh. I know it's not PC, or whatever, but alphas and omegas...like, evolution-wise...we're supposed to be made for each other. And I know— _I know_ —that with hormone therapy it doesn't matter, right. Even another omega could bond with me and take that role. But..." He bites his lip.

Minghao nods for him to continue.

"But there's this stupid little part of me that's like...'well, I guess you just weren't a good enough omega for an alpha to be interested in you'—please don't." Mingyu can see Minghao crumple at his words, his entire frame recoiling and then unfolding in an instant to reach for Mingyu, to comfort. "Please. I know. Dr. Oh and I have talked about this a lot. I just want to explain."

"Okay," Minghao concedes in a tiny voice.

"Internalized estrism is bad, omegas don't need an alpha; blah blah, I get it." Mingyu scrubs his eyes. "But you know how it is for me. Being like this; not looking or smelling like an omega. I'm so proud of my body, really, but sometimes I want to—to punch my mirror until it breaks.

"I'm not saying that getting with an alpha will automatically make it all go away," Mingyu says. "I'm not that stupid. But I don't want to 'settle' for a beta or another omega without knowing what it could be like. Maybe it'll feel the same; maybe it'll feel worse. But if there's a chance that being with an alpha can help me feel _normal_..." He trails off.

"You want to know that you tried," Minghao says. "I understand. It's not just a sexual thing; it's an emotional thing, too."

Mingyu nods.

Minghao's brows pull together. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have joked about that."

Mingyu laughs lightly. "You didn't know."

"I knew you were seeing Dr. Oh," Minghao says, still looking distraught.

"But not for that." Mingyu hooks his ankle around Minghao's. "I don't have to tell you everything, you know," he teases.

"You should," Minghao says. "You should just live with me and eat with me and go to work with me and never leave my side."

"Okay," Mingyu says, accepting Minghao's hands reaching to cup his face.

"And sleep in the same bed as me, and wear the same clothes as me." Minghao pauses. "And cook for me?"

"Of course. What is the point of being good at cooking if you have no one to spoil?"

"You have someone now."

Mingyu purses his lips and tries not to look affected. " _Maybe_. Maybe I have someone."

"You have someone who likes seeing you naked and who has been texting you all through brunch."

"I didn't check them!" Mingyu whines. "I can't exactly stop him from texting me."

"Hmph," Minghao says. "He can learn to wait."

Mingyu is helpless to the little toothy smile that spreads across his face. "Hey, Hao? I love you."

Minghao pulls Mingyu forward to kiss his forehead. "I love you too. So much." He strokes Mingyu's cheekbones with his thumbs. "My special little monster."

There had always been the expectation within their families and friends from university that Mingyu and Minghao would end up together. They had grown up together, gone to the same art school together, and more often than not could be found strolling campus hand in hand. Mingyu remembers wanting to marry Minghao in the hazy, platonic way of children who couldn't bear the thought of being parted from their best friend. It was love then and it is love now.

But Mingyu cannot imagine bonding with Minghao in the way of lovers, alpha or not. It feels like an insult. Mingyu _is_ bonded to Minghao, and Minghao to him. There is a string of memories—play and fights, laughter and tears, love and love and more love—that stretches between their pinkies, tying them together. Their friendship is not less for its lack of physical evidence. Mingyu and Minghao may wander apart, may lie in other's beds, may one day lay claim to another, but they can always follow the trail of their memories back to each other.

"I am with you," Minghao says softly.

"I know," Mingyu replies.

\---XXX---

Between a charity event spanning several high schools and the pre-recording of _Battle Trip_ , Seungkwan is booked up the rest of the week. The charity is to raise money for underfunded high school athletics programs and to Mingyu's understanding, consists mainly of Seungkwan playing volleyball with a bunch of kids all day. As for _Battle Trip_ , he's a special MC that week. Mingyu would be disappointed if he had time to be. Seungmin did not take time off, as Mingyu had suggested, but insisted on powering through the end of the month on decongestant and willpower alone, making him an absolute terror at the studio. He is at Sangyeon's throat, at Mingyu's throat, at corporate's throat, and between the pressure during the work day and the overtime Mingyu is doing at home, he has no time to lament over Seungkwan's absence.

Mingyu is resigned to not seeing Seungkwan until Sunday—Friday is not any less hellish for being the end of the week and he will need to spend all of Saturday recovering—but as he's leaving the studio around seven on Friday, Seungkwan texts him.

 _'Drinks and bad decisions?'_ He's sent a pin with his location attached to the text, a bar just outside of Gangnam that Mingyu isn't familiar with.

 _'Not sure I want a killer hangover after this week,'_ Mingyu replies, but he's already mapping the distance between his studio and the bar. Seven minutes by taxi. He worries his lip.

 _'Can't possibly be worse than working overtime five days in a row.'_ Mingyu huffs. Probably not wrong.

 _'Wouldn't you rather see me chipper and dolled up on Sunday?'_ He shoots back.

Seungkwan's reply is instantaneous. _'I would rather see you now.'_

Mingyu groans aloud. He rocks back and forth on his heels like his mind isn't already made up. How the hell was he supposed to say no to that? _'Flattery will get you everywhere. ETA 10min.'_

He expects the bar to be buzzing, but as it turns out the reason Mingyu has never heard of this place is because it is so far removed from his usual scene that he would have scrolled right past the listing on Naver if he saw it.

In other words: it's expensive.

He's a bit too casual for the price, but Mingyu's face and confidence make up the difference. The host ushers him in without question when he says someone is expecting him. Mingyu shifts his bag further up his shoulder and makes his way into the warmly but dimly lit restaurant.

Seungkwan is perched on a barstool at the end of bar, one leg extended and his chin resting on a bent wrist. He's turned away from Mingyu and looking out the windows, floor-to-ceiling across the entire wall facing the street. Five stories up, the view is a spectacular living painting of Gangnam at night. Seated alone with such wistful posture, Seungkwan looks to Mingyu like the protagonist in every good drama: plucky, idealistic, charismatic, and impossible not to root for. All he needs is the slow pan of a camera around his front, capturing the far-off look in his eyes broken by an achingly slow blink.

Mingyu inserts himself unobtrusively beside Seungkwan. It takes a moment for Seungkwan to notice his presence, but Mingyu doesn't mind taking the time to re-familiarize himself with Seungkwan's features.

When Seungkwan finally turns, the reserved distance in his expression melts into quiet satisfaction. The corners of his lips turn up. "Why, hello."

"Hi," Mingyu says. He can feel himself smiling to match Seungkwan; too wide, too goofy. "Wow. Hello."

Seungkwan looks Mingyu over like he did at the shoot but takes the time to slow down and appreciate. "You really just look like this, don't you?" he teases.

Mingyu rolls his shoulders back, lips pressed together in a pleased pout. "Mhmm."

Seungkwan laughs lightly and rolls his eyes. "Did you find this place easily?"

"Yes," Mingyu says. "Not one of my, ah, usual haunts, but not too difficult to find." He gestures to his slightly crumpled collared shirt and sweater vest combination.

"You look fine," Seungkwan says. He reaches out to Mingyu, giving the collar of his shirt a sharp tug and then smoothing it down, letting his hands linger. "Besides, if you're with me, even a potato sack would be allowed in." Mingyu swallows hard and Seungkwan follows the bob of his throat with a fingertip. He draws back a moment later, still smiling. "I prefer a little more energetic an atmosphere myself, but tonight it felt more appropriate that it be..."

"Intimate?" Mingyu suggests.

"I was going to say 'low-stress,'" Seungkwan says, quirking an eyebrow. Mingyu looks at a point over Seungkwan's shoulder, ears burning. "After the week we've had, any more unwanted stimulus seems like torture."

He pushes one of the drinks in front of him in Mingyu's direction. "For you."

Mingyu blinks and accepts the glass, tall and filled with ice and bubbles. "Thank you," he says. "What is it?"

"Secret," Seungkwan says, propping his head up with his palm once more. "Why don't you try it?"

Mingyu takes an obedient sip. He makes a surprised noise. "Oh! It's sweet. I expected gin and tonic."

"Close." Seungkwan seems pleased. "There's some extra kick to it. Do you like it?"

Mingyu answers by taking another, longer sip.

Seungkwan laughs and stirs his own drink. "I don't mean to keep you out late if you're too battered for it," he says. "I don't want you to feel obligated to stay for hours." He sips at the drink. "I simply and selfishly wanted to meet with you before Sunday."

Mingyu's toes curl in his shoes. "Me too," he says. "All week, I—well. I thought about you a lot."

"Hm. Then I won't feel bad about buying you more drinks."

"Oh," Mingyu says, "you don't have t—" But Seungkwan is already shaking his head.

"My grossly overpriced bar; my check at the end of the night," he says. His eyes turn devilish. "You can pay me in getting tipsy enough to let some embarrassing personal anecdote slip."

Mingyu is tired from work—exhausted, really—but being around Seungkwan is a hit of _awareness_ , waking up senses that had been beaten down by the drone of the workday. He feels focused and awake because he must. He doesn't want to miss anything. Not the way Seungkwan gradually opens his body language to Mingyu, turning towards him and leaning in; not the lows of his voice when he tells a story and not the high squeaks when he laughs at something Mingyu says. Seungkwan really is so small next to Mingyu—short fingers and small, soft hands and legs that aren’t long enough to reach the floor. It would be so easy for Mingyu to fold himself around Seungkwan and squeeze him tight enough that he can't tell where one of them ends and the other begins. He would like to.

But Seungkwan isn't any less intense, even clearly worn out from his own hectic week. No matter what story Mingyu tells, he can't catch Seungkwan wrong-footed. It's strange and somewhat exhilarating to be unable to leave his conversation partner speechless. On the contrary, it's Seungkwan who can make Mingyu's brain melt with a hand on his knee, or when he fingers the hair at his temple as Mingyu tells a story, so distracting that he loses his place. He forgets himself so much that he doesn't see the drop until it's too late.

"Okay, okay, but really—" Seungkwan is still laughing over Mingyu's locker room story. "Really, you're so lovely. I hope you won't be offended if I tell you I didn't expect it."

"Not at all," Mingyu says. His body is warm with three different cocktails Seungkwan ordered for him, none of which he knows the names. "It's not like I anticipated it either."

"I've always had such terrible luck with betas," Seungkwan says. He's looking at his finger tracing patterns in the condensation on his glass, so he doesn't see the way Mingyu's entire body goes still. "Even after we texted so much I thought we wouldn't have any chemistry in person. I'm happy to be proven wrong."

Mingyu blanks on a reply. The silence stretches out uncomfortably and Seungkwan looks up, but it's too soon, Mingyu hasn't quite schooled his expression into something less gut-wrenching. Seungkwan prompts, "Hyung?"

"Hm?" Mingyu says, feigning nonchalance.

Seungkwan's eyes dance across Mingyu's face, analyzing. His smile drops. "I've upset you."

 _No, no, no._ "What? No you haven't." Mingyu tries desperately to lie.

"Was it—ah." He has a guilty, knowing look that makes Mingyu's stomach swoop. "That was careless of me," Seungkwan says. He clicks his tongue. "It's not—I swear I don't have anything against betas. I shouldn't have put it so crassly. There were a few conversations—unpleasant conversations—with betas I went out with who weren't, ah, fans, of my attitude and admittedly it has made me a little cautious in who I am intimate with. But I don't believe it's a matter of inherent natures or anything, just incompatible personality types—"

Mingyu's finally got Seungkwan flustered, but in the worst possible way. He can't process half the words Seungkwan is saying over the sound of his heart pounding in his throat. Minghao told him he'd have to say so eventually, didn't he? Better to get it over with when Mingyu is pleasantly buzzed than stone cold sober.

"Seungkwan-ah," Mingyu rasps, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I'm an omega."

There is a pregnant pause between them. Seungkwan opens his mouth then closes it. Parts his lips again, tilts his head to the side. "You..." Closes his mouth. Furrows his brows. He tilts his head forward, unthinking, before he reels back with wide eyes. "Sorry," he says. "I shouldn't just..." His tongue darts over his lips. "Can I...?" He touches the side of his nose.

Mingyu flushes at the request despite himself. Scenting wasn't lewd or anything, but... Mingyu thinks of his mouth open to taste the familiar, milky, animal scent of the girl he'd met at the laundromat. He thinks of the studio, Seungkwan's cologne clogging his nose. He thinks of the warmer scent beneath it. Barely able to meet Seungkwan's eyes, he nods.

Seungkwan leans in, closer than he had all night, one hand on Mingyu's thigh for balance. Mingyu turns his head and lets Seungkwan sniff lightly at the underside of his chin. Even with his underperforming scent glands, there's no way Seungkwan can be mistaken. Mingyu's heart is racing; he knows he is wreathed in off-season omega pheromones. Seungkwan's breath puffs against his too-hot skin. Mingyu pretends very hard not to be affected by the proximity.

"Oh," Seungkwan says in a low voice. "Yes, you are."

He leans back, eyes dark and a bemused curl to his lips. "Pretty big for an omega, aren't you?"

Mingyu makes a complicated expression. He waits for the other shoe to drop.

"That's interesting," Seungkwan says, leaning his elbow against the bar. "That's very interesting, Mr. Kim."

"Sorry," Mingyu croaks. "I should have told you—"

Seungkwan makes a dismissive motion. "I should've asked, not assumed. No wonder you were so speechless when I started going on about betas."

This...isn't how Mingyu expected the conversation to go. It's not rejection—not yet—but he still feels strung up by his neck, struggling to breathe. Seungkwan's expression is unreadable but Mingyu feels the pressure of an unasked question, a lingering unknown. It keeps him from relaxing. He can only wait for Seungkwan to ask.

Seungkwan does not ask. He laughs, so suddenly it makes Mingyu jump. "Sorry," he says, "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just...I feel like such a bully."

"A bully!" Mingyu asks, startled.

"Well, yes," Seungkwan says, amused. "You look like a naughty beagle with his tail between his legs, ready to be reprimanded. Am I really so cruel a master?"

Mingyu sputters. "But, I—I lied about—"

Seungkwan flicks Mingyu with condensation from his glass and Mingyu sputters harder. "That's me, spraying you with a water bottle for being bad."

" _Why?_ " Mingyu asks, dumbfounded.

"You didn't lie about anything," Seungkwan says. "I'm not going to throw a fit because I didn't use the nose on my face or the words in my mouth to find out your second gender. That's on me. You only get punished for being silly."

Mingyu grumbles something under his breath but is stopped by Seungkwan's ankle hooking around his. Mingyu meets his eyes properly for the first time since the conversation took a turn. Seungkwan's eyes crinkle pleasantly.

"Did you think I would be disappointed, Minggoo?" he asks.

Mingyu closes his eyes. "I might have been, in your position."

He opens them again at the touch of hands to his face. Seungkwan cups Mingyu's cheeks, squishing them gently. Mingyu puffs his cheeks and Seungkwan laughs lightly, a wonderful tinkling sound that melts the last of the fear-frost gripping Mingyu's heart. He lets the tension out of his shoulders. "You're not—it's really okay?" he asks tentatively.

"Mhmm," Seungkwan hums. "Seungkwannie is very silly and unobservant, so please forgive him."

"Okay," Mingyu says, feeling somehow even more flustered than before.

"Who could be disappointed with you?" Seungkwan coos. "This handsome jaw and that pretty nose. Hyung is so handsome and so obedient, even when Seungkwannie is unreasonable and asks him to send that many pictures."

"You are so embarrassing," Mingyu grumbles.

"And you are lovely," Seungkwan says. "Say it. 'Kim Mingyu is lovely.'"

Mingyu rolls his eyes, pouting his lips to keep from smiling. "Kim Mingyu is lovely."

"Wow, what a narcissist."

"Wh—hey!"

Seungkwan's eyes dance playfully. Mingyu puffs his cheeks again and Seungkwan pops them gently, his expression becoming softer. "Who could be disappointed with you, mm? It's all I can do not to think about you, so no more unnecessary thoughts, alright? Think only of me." He pets Mingyu's cheeks with his thumbs and lets his eyes roam over Mingyu's face. Appreciative. Taking possession.

Mingyu turns his face in Seungkwan's hands to press a kiss where wrist meets palm. Seungkwan goes still. Mingyu kisses him again, the heel of his palm, with eyes lowered. Deferential. He runs his lips up the curve of Seungkwan's thumb and kisses the pad of it. His skin is pleasantly smooth and dry beneath Mingyu's lips, unlike his own sweaty palms. As if he fears nothing, worries over nothing. As if Mingyu is already his.

Mingyu dares to glance at Seungkwan and nearly jerks away at the concentrated _focus_ in his expression. The look makes him feel raw and carved up, like an exposed nerve.

Seungkwan's hold on Mingyu changes. The soft palms become firm, one sliding up and the other down to mold themselves against Mingyu's temple and his nape. Mingyu allows himself to be held and shaped to Seungkwan's will. He wants to say, _Don't look at me like that,_ but what he actually wants to say is, _Give me your fire_.

Mingyu meets Seungkwan when he leans in, their lips already parted to tear into each other. The kiss is as fresh and bright as the shock of drawn blood, wearing Mingyu's already thin patience to a thread on the verge of snapping. Seungkwan is as controlling a kisser as he is a conversationalist, forcing Mingyu to crumble to his will, to the measured, purposeful drag of lips on lips. He stirs Mingyu up and holds him down, drawing away before Mingyu is even a little satisfied. He notices, distantly, that his hand is on Seungkwan's barstool, balancing him between Seungkwan's thighs.

The sweat on the back of Mingyu's neck is cold and Seungkwan's lips are shinier than before. Mingyu leans in, tucking his nose against Seungkwan's, and presses a long, chaste kiss to his lips. When Seungkwan's eyes flutter closed, he does it again. Seungkwan inhales through his mouth and their lips touch again. Mingyu kisses the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, you _are_ lovely," Seungkwan murmurs. Mingyu tries to kiss him again but Seungkwan shakes his head. "I don't want to drink anymore."

Mingyu makes a confused noise in the back of his throat and pulls back. Seungkwan lets him go and reaches into the inner pocket of his blazer to pull out his wallet. He pushes a credit card across the bar counter where it is swiftly picked up by the bartender. Mingyu watches the transaction with brows pulled together. "What do you—"

"Mingyu-hyung," Seungkwan says in a tone that says, _Look at me_. Mingyu does.

"I am not in the habit of sharing," Seungkwan says by way of explanation. Mingyu cocks his head to the side, still uncomprehending, and Seungkwan sighs and beckons Mingyu closer.

He says into the curve of Mingyu's ear: "You don't see what you look like when you're being kissed. It is not for sharing with the people around us."

Mingyu's stomach clenches. He jerks back, eyelashes fluttering. "It can't possibly be so—"

"It is," Seungkwan says simply.

"Oh," Mingyu says in a little voice.

"For someone who knows how well-proportioned he is, your lack of self-awareness in some areas is..." Seungkwan drums his fingers against his thigh.

"Annoying?" Mingyu guesses.

"Distractingly erotic," Seungkwan says.

"Oh," Mingyu says again.

"An accidental tease, oh, Boo Seungkwan what have you gotten yourself into this time..." The bartender returns his card and Seungkwan slips it back into his wallet and snaps it shut. "Shall we?"

Feeling strangely disappointed, Mingyu follows Seungkwan in getting to his feet. "We're not going to talk more?"

Seungkwan stops.

Turns on his heel. Looks up at Mingyu with amusement, even though his voice carries a trace of frustration. "If 'talk' is what you would like to do, then certainly, we can talk. But," his voice gets lower, faster, "my apartment is three blocks away and a much more private setting for _'talking,'_ wouldn't you say, Mr. Kim?"

Mingyu finally decides to shut up and follow Seungkwan.

\---XXX---

And stays shut up.

Talking, as it turns out, is somewhat difficult when Seungkwan is melded like a hot brand against Mingyu's front, fingers digging in and pulling Mingyu down to seal their mouths together. At the bar and on the walk home Seungkwan had remained calm, if playfully frustrated. He had reminded himself of Mingyu's physical presence by touching his wrist, his thigh, the back of his hand but no more than a gentle, consistent warmth at Mingyu's side. Mingyu had not known the level of restraint Seungkwan was exhibiting. Mingyu knows now.

He is vaguely aware of the location of Seungkwan's apartment (big building), the layout of Seungkwan's apartment (big apartment), and the details of Seungkwan's bedroom (big bed). He's finding it a bit difficult to focus on the specifics of what is undoubtedly a beautiful, chic little (big) place. A shame, really.

Seungkwan herds Mingyu into his bed with single-minded determination. Mingyu sheds his vest, but when he attempts to unbutton his shirt, Seungkwan swats his hands away. "Later," he says distractedly. He puts a heavy hand on the front of Mingyu's slacks. Mingyu spends a long moment trying to decide whether to be offended Seungkwan is uninterested in his bare chest and arms until Seungkwan's fingers hook the edge of Mingyu's underwear and he pulls down.

" _Good_ ," Seungkwan says with feeling, then sinks to his knees.

Mingyu does not think much after that.

He wants to come, possibly more than he has ever wanted to come—overlooking the first time he had masturbated to pictures of Seungkwan, the day Seungkwan asked Mingyu to take a photo especially for him—but as soon as he starts to approach the rapid tumble of orgasm, Seungkwan pulls off him and looks up, lips slick. Mingyu whines, impatient and bordering on bratty. Seungkwan squeezes his thigh to get his attention.

"Back there, at the bar," he says. "You didn't like when I compared you to a beta."

Mingyu's abdomen clenches visibly before he can stop himself. "What?" he says, trying to sound dazed. "Is that important right now?"

"Yes," Seungkwan says. "I could smell it on you, clear as anything."

"You could—huh?" Mingyu blinks. How could he smell anything on Mi—ah, that's right. He had put on his prescription cologne when he freshened up in the bathroom, before he had met up with Seungkwan. Mingyu could slap himself for being so overeager.

"The fear and guilt was so strong, I—" Seungkwan cuts himself off, working Mingyu's cock in this absolutely torturous, absent-minded way. "Well. I just wanted to say." Seungkwan meets Mingyu's eyes and sears through them. "I will not make that mistake again."

Mingyu wants to say something like _thank you_ or _thank God_ or maybe let out a pathetic little sob of relief, but he doesn't need to say anything. His legs close around Seungkwan ever so slightly and his cock throbs in Seungkwan's hand. Seungkwan's eyes go dark as inkwells.

"I think I would like to have sex with you, Kim Mingyu," he says in a low voice.

Mingyu finds the right words. "I think I would like you to fuck me, Boo Seungkwan."

"So crude," Seungkwan murmurs, pushing Mingyu onto his back and climbing up to straddle his hips. "I think you're just acting cool. You're not a 'fuck me' kind of guy."

"No," Mingyu admits. "I'm not." He hooks his ankles behind Seungkwan's back and presses him down until Seungkwan has to catch himself with a hand on Mingyu's stomach. "But I'm not usually this desperate."

Seungkwan brushes his knuckles down the side of Mingyu's face, petting the apple of his cheek with such genuine affection that Mingyu feels an emotion-instinct-urge swell within him to the point of bursting. He turns his head, dislodging Seungkwan's hand only to take his thumb in his mouth, sucking lightly at the digit. He can feel his cheeks burn at the daring intimacy but Seungkwan's controlled expression doesn't change other than a quick inhale that Mingyu isn't sure if he sees, hears, or just somehow _perceives_ on a preternatural level.

"Really," Seungkwan says, almost a whisper. "You're unreal."

He takes his hand back so that he can rip off his tie and undo just enough buttons to pull his shirt over his head. Mingyu watches, stunned into silence. He almost wants to look away, out of respect and out of feeling that he is undeserving to have Seungkwan in this way.

"Look at me," Seungkwan says, and Mingyu is helpless to obey.

For a moment, it seems like Seungkwan is hesitating, but then he says in that same confident, even voice, "This is your alpha." He touches Mingyu's bare stomach, the skin almost vibrating. "And you are my omega."

The words release a dam of relief and gratitude so great that Mingyu can't help the keen he lets out, arching his back to get closer to Seungkwan. He knows Seungkwan can smell it. His affection, his loyalty, his gratitude. Lust so thick it could choke him. He can smell from Seungkwan, too, that same lust. Excitement. An undercurrent of territoriality that surprises and elates Mingyu in equal parts.

He knew it would be different. Of course it would be different. These scents have meanings beyond communication to them; they belong to a baser drive to mate-seek and to bond that is special to them. The miasma between Mingyu and Seungkwan is different than Mingyu and his beta partners, even his omega partners. This close, this riled up—Mingyu can sense how his scent excites Seungkwan as an alpha. It turns Mingyu on as much as any touch, to know he is wanted at the core of his partner's being. He knows Seungkwan knows this. It is written in the subtle changes of the air between them, processed and understood before they could even think of words to describe it.

Mingyu can't take it, suddenly. There's too much space and time between them. His urgency is painted in his scent but still Mingyu says, "Please. Please, Seungkwan, I want—"

"I know," Seungkwan says. He undoes the front of his pants and rolls off Mingyu to pull them off.

But it feels wrong. The temporary distance. The cool air slices at Mingyu's skin like knives and he cries out, sharp enough to startle Seungkwan. He tosses his pants aside and presses himself to Mingyu's side. "Hyung?"

His body warmth is a salve. Mingyu sucks in a breath and buries his face in Seungkwan's neck, nuzzling beneath his jaw like he had been dying to do at the bar, like he had been dying to do at the studio, not even an hour after they'd met—

Seungkwan smells so good. He's found it, that warm, animal musk that burns and soothes him at the same time, like aloe across sunburned skin. He opens his mouth to bring Seungkwan's scent over his palette but even that is not enough. He offers tentative kitten licks to Seungkwan's neck, trying to taste him. A full body shiver wracks Seungkwan's body and Mingyu can smell-taste how his submissive devotion goes straight to Seungkwan's groin. Seungkwan reaches between Mingyu's legs, behind his sac, to test how wet he is. If Mingyu were more clear-headed he would be embarrassed at how slick sluices over and between Seungkwan's fingers as soon as he slides them in.

"Oh," Seungkwan says, floored.

Mingyu encourages Seungkwan to push his fingers in farther by latching on to his neck and sucking lightly, but Seungkwan has gone rigid. His scent is changing, but Mingyu doesn't understand why, why, why _shock_ , why _fear_ , why mounting _horror_ —

Seungkwan detaches himself from Mingyu completely, sliding a body length away from Mingyu on the bed. Mingyu looks up, confused, and is even more confused when he sees the wary, even _hostile_ look on Seungkwan's face.

"You're in heat?" he asks in a tight voice.

 _What?_ "What?" Mingyu's brows furrow.

"You're in heat," Seungkwan says, this time with certainty.

He's so sure of himself that Mingyu actually has to pause and wrack his brain for the end date of his last heat.

Seungkwan takes his silence to mean guilty assent. "Are you serious?" Seungkwan says, voice rising. "You're—how could you be so irresponsible? That's so—cycles aren't a fucking joke, Mingyu-hyung!"

"Wait," Mingyu says. "Wait, Seungkwan, it's not like—"

"God," Seungkwan says. He lets out a bitter laugh. "Do you even know what could have happened to you, if I hadn't stopped? What could have happened to me? That's—it's sexual assault, Mingyu-ssi, to not tell your partner if you're in heat. God, I knew it was strange that your pheromones were so much stronger this time, but I just thought... _God_."

"Seungkwan-ah," Mingyu says, trying not to panic. "It's really—I swear it's not what you think."

"Do you even care?" Seungkwan asks softly. " _Would_ you even care? If I lost myself to you."

It must be the combination of smells and words and misunderstandings. Mingyu bursts into tears.

It's brief but aggressive, a sob tearing itself from Mingyu's throat at even the _thought_ of—that—happening to Seungkwan. Tears fill his eyes and overflow but he doesn't cry more than that initial, empathetic burst of fear, shame, and soul-deep grief. It must carry in some pheromonal capacity because Seungkwan's hostility derails completely and he crawls closer to Mingyu, calling his name in a soft, quelling voice.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says, wiping at the tears. "I'm sorry, I just—to even think of that happening to you—that it would be because of _me_ —"

"Shh," Seungkwan says, covering Mingyu's hands with his own. "It didn't, though. We stopped. We're okay."

"I'm not—" Mingyu sucks in a breath. "I'm not in heat. I swear. It's—" He closes his eyes and swallows thickly. "There is something else, something I should have told you. I didn't know it would affect me like this. It's not my heat, but I should have told you anyway." He looks at Seungkwan, begging him to believe him with his eyes.

"Okay," Seungkwan says. "I want you to explain it all to me. But how about we get some fresh air first, okay? I think being in this room will be...unhelpful."

"Okay," Mingyu says with a weak smile.

\---XXX---

They end up sitting at one of the tables outside the 7-Eleven around the corner of Seungkwan's block even though it's cold enough to see their breath. Neither of them have the stomach for food or sitting indoors, but Seungkwan bought them both coffees that they nurse while sneaking glances at each other.

"So," Seungkwan says. "This...thing of yours."

"Right," Mingyu says. "Minghao—my best friend—he called it a, ah, a fetish."

Clearly not expecting the conversation to go in this direction, Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. "A fetish."

"Yes," Mingyu says. "Um, for alphas."

Seungkwan blinks. He takes a loud slurp of his coffee. "You're telling me," he says slowly, "that every time you have sex with an alpha, you get like that? Pliant and wet like you're in the height of heat?"

Mingyu has never been so envious of roadkill in his life. "Well, I've never had sex with an alpha before, so. Maybe?"

"You've never—"

"I'm explaining this kind of badly," Mingyu says. "I see a therapist."

"An _alpha_ therapist—"

"For gender dysphoria," Mingyu says quickly.

"Oh," Seungkwan says. And then his face falls. " _Oh_."

Mingyu drums his fingers on the paper cup. "Yeah, uh, for like three years now, I guess? Dr. Oh, she's really nice. But what you said about me hating being compared to betas...yeah."

Seungkwan takes another, quieter sip. "Tonight is not the first time your partner has mistaken you for a beta," he deduces.

"No," Mingyu says. "It happens all the time. And even people I've dated in the past, like...they knew I was an omega and they still would treat me like a beta. Like, 'yeah, cool, I know you have heats and a stereotypical omega personality but I'm still going to expect you to be this big, bossy, tough beta that I've idealized you as.'"

"Oh," Seungkwan says again, with deeper understanding. "But your scent is so—"

"I have prescription cologne," Mingyu says. "My pheromones are super weak so, uh, if I'm going on a—if I'm meeting someone, I usually put some on so I'm not limping around as far as scent communication goes. Especially off-season it's like." He mimes a chop. "Nothing there."

Seungkwan closes his eyes. "That's why—at the Victoria's Secret shoot and then today—you were so different. I see."

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says again. "I didn't think it through. I understand why you would think I was in heat and be cautious. I'm—I'm glad you did that. If I had made a mistake that careless..." He trails off.

Seungkwan nods knowingly. "I'm well aware of the predatory alpha stereotype. But for me, the thought of being taken advantage of by an omega has been a fear of mine for a long time—I had a stalker, you know."

"Yes," Mingyu says. "My manager warned me."

"She never approached me directly, or anything. It was—" Seungkwan grimaces. "Well it was horrible. Even though nothing happened. But all those true crime stories about stalkers using their cycles to manipulate their victims..."

"Yeah," Mingyu says. "I understand the caution. Really."

Seungkwan nods. "It really put me off of omegas for a while, truth be told. Just that lingering fear. But of course betas and alphas have their own unpleasant quirks." He smiles at Mingyu. "We're all the same annoying species underneath it all."

Mingyu laughs lightly.

"But why call it a 'fetish'?" Seungkwan asks. "Why...why that reaction at all?"

"Ah," Mingyu says. "It's...hard to explain."

Even though he explained it to Minghao earlier that week, it's different to explain to Seungkwan's face why him being an alpha made Mingyu act out in a way that felt beyond his control. "I'm...I love myself," Mingyu starts. "I take good care of my body, I'm handsome, and I can do lots of handy things."

"I noticed," Seungkwan says.

"Shut up." Mingyu goes to kick Seungkwan under the table but can only bring himself to knock their knees together. "I think I make a great partner and lover. I'm not ashamed of being the way that I am, and that includes being an omega. I really love that I was born an omega." He ducks his head a little shyly. "I love being spoiled and thought of. I like it when my partner makes me feel small, and needed, and like I belong. I love kids; I'm very paternal. And I love caring for my partner and treating them as well! I feel like I’m very balanced, but my exes only wanted to take without giving back in the way I need. It was like they never...saw me."

He scratches the side of his nose. "Dr. Oh and Minghao both told me that getting with an alpha wouldn't magically solve all my problems, and I know that! I do. But I can't stop wondering if someone with the right personality and the right looks and the right interests, who also happens to be an alpha..."

"You're wondering if an alpha can make you whole," Seungkwan says.

"Not even that," Mingyu says. "Just...seen."

Seungkwan nods slowly. He downs the last of his coffee. "I'm glad you told me. And I agree that you should have told me earlier, but," Mingyu winces, "but I will admit my eagerness is partly at fault. You hardly had time or the place of mind to think of letting me know in between getting off work and getting into bed with me. It's hardly past ten."

Somehow. God, Mingyu could have sworn it was past three in the morning.

"That being said," Seungkwan says, "I don't think I'm out of line in saying that's a lot to suddenly drop on someone."

Mingyu's stomach drops. "Yeah?"

"Don't look so kicked," Seungkwan huffs, rolling his eyes. "I'm not saying I don't want to see you again. I'm in _show business_. It's going to take a lot more baggage than that to scare me off."

"But?" Mingyu prompts quietly.

"But I'm not going to sleep with you," Seungkwan says.

Mingyu's stomach drops further, but he nods. After a blunder like his, this much is to be expected.

Seungkwan hesitates, then sighs. "I don't know how to word this without sounding like an asshole. You having an alpha fetish doesn't bother me. It's actually—" Seungkwan cuts himself off, blinking rapidly. "I mean, it's fine. It doesn't bother me." He tugs at the collar of his hoodie. "But I don't..."

He closes his eyes. "I don't sleep around."

Mingyu waits for more, but Seungkwan doesn't say anything else. "Oh. Cool. Me too, for the record."

Seungkwan watches himself pick at the plastic lid of the coffee cup. "I mean to say, I don't want to sleep with you if you're only sleeping with me because I'm an alpha."

"Oh," Mingyu says. The meaning clicks. " _Oh_." He feels his face go pleasantly warm. Seungkwan isn't just talking to Mingyu because he thinks he's hot, Seungkwan is talking to Mingyu because...

"Speak another word and you die," Seungkwan says, looking the furthest thing from intimidating in the world with his hoodie pulled up over his nose. He glares at Mingyu. Mingyu mimes zipping his lips, placatingly. But he can't resist entirely.

"Me too, for the record," Mingyu says again with the shy duck of his head. "Or...not just. Sex."

Seungkwan buries his face in his hands. "I cannot stand you. So embarrassing."

Buoyed, Mingyu asks: "So, when can I see you again? For not-sex."

"I don't know," Seungkwan says, still hiding behind his hands. "I may just die here of mortification."

"You'll probably want to think everything over," Mingyu says. "I know I would. But...three weeks? Maybe?"

"No," Seungkwan mumbles.

Mingyu is about to say _alright, that's fine, a month then_ — when Seungkwan pipes up, "Two."

"Two weeks?" Mingyu says, trying not to sound as eager as he feels.

"Yeah," Seungkwan mumbles. "And we can still text and stuff. I want to."

"Okay," Mingyu says. "Yes. Great. I'll see you in two weeks."

"What, got a plan already?" Seungkwan jokes.

"No," Mingyu says. "At least, not yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still haven't recovered from that cosmo shoot, so if you would like to witness a broken man at their finest, come find me on twitter [@whiskerprince ](https://www.twitter.com/whiskerprince)


	2. Long beside the bitter of the skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stupid," Seungkwan says, punching him again. "Cheesy." And again. And then he stands on his tiptoes to wrap Mingyu in the warmest hug, his body soft and fitting easily in Mingyu's arms. "Missed you," Seungkwan confesses under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am overwhelmed by the positive response you guys have given me ;__; thank you so so much for liking my story. i will be replying to comments as soon as i finish my project for svt 5th anniversary hehe ^^

In truth, it takes Mingyu about three days to come up with the perfect plan. The idea comes upon him while he's in the shower and he stumbles, naked and dripping, into the kitchen to his phone because _oh fuck, if he can pull this off_ —

Well. Mingyu doesn't consider himself boyfriend material for nothing. It's worth tracking water all over his floor.

It's the setup that takes the most time. Mingyu thinks to coordinate with Seungkwan's manager in order to keep the plan secret, but the immediate issue is he doesn't have her number and the only other person he knows who _does_ have her number is not exactly cooperative.

Seungmin offers Mingyu the most puzzled look when Mingyu asks for her direct line. "What? Boo Seungkwan? Didn't you—didn't you ask me about this a month ago?"

"Two weeks ago," Mingyu corrects, "but who's counting."

Seungmin rolls his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. I already told you to leave the poor guy alone. You're really still on this? No offense hyung, you're hot and all, but Boo Seungkwan is famous, like, _really_ famous—"

Mingyu huffs. "I am aware of how famous he is, yeah. I'm not asking for his number; just his manager's."

Seungmin finally turns around in his chair, abandoning his Google calendar in favor of throwing a hand out at Mingyu. " _Why?_ " he asks, exasperated.

Mingyu squirms. He's unaccustomed to lying, especially to scary people like Seungmin. "I owe him...an apology."

Seungmin's bemused but neutral face drops into hostility in an instant. "Kim Mingyu," he says slowly, "what did you do?"

"Nothing!" Mingyu says, waving his hands. "Really, it's nothing! Nothing...done on company time— _I mean_ ," Seungmin's expression gets even darker, "It's nothing you or the company would get in trouble for. It's, um, personal."

"How personal?" Seungmin snaps, crossing his arms.

Mingyu can see Kiku and Chanhee loitering on the other side of Seungmin's not-really-closed office door. He turns his eyes back to Seungmin, swallows. "More personal than I feel like discussing?"

Seungmin tracks his gaze. With an angry inhale, he jumps to his feet, stomps out the door and up to their snooping coworkers and snaps, " _Something to see here?_ " in such a cold voice that Mingyu gets goosebumps. He returns once they skitter off, slamming the door in his wake. Leans against it. "Well?"

"Uh," Mingyu says. "We ended up...meeting outside of work and..."

Seungmin mimes for him to continue.

"—we got drinks and, um—"

"I don't need to hear about that," Seungmin cuts him off. Mingyu sags in relief. "What did you do to feel you need to apologize?"

"I lied by omission, kind of," Mingyu says, "about...HR-level stuff."

"Was it illegal? Whatever you did."

Mingyu shakes his head. "Just kind of douchey."

Seungmin drums his fingers against his arm. "I'm not supposed to give this information out. I could get fired, Mingyu-hyung."

Mingyu lowers his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry. I understand if you can't. I just wanted it to be a surprise."

"A surprise?" Seungmin quirks an eyebrow. "As an apology?"

Mingyu scuffs his foot. "Technically I already apologized. This is more of an, um..."

Seungmin's eyes light up in understanding and his face softens. Mingyu doesn't know what meaning he was able to pull from that mumbling but he dares to look hopeful. Seungmin smacks him on the head gently with a file folder. "Idiot. It's for a date, isn't it? Lead with that."

Mingyu freezes.

Seungmin backpedals, flustered and holding up his hands. "Um, or not? Actually...this is none of my business. Look, I'll give you her number. Just don't tell her you got it from me, okay? Jeez, hyung, you sure know how to make a big deal out of nothing." Seungmin scolds but his expression is amused as he copies down the number for _Heo Seohee_.

One obstacle down, one to go.

Mingyu texts her as soon as he gets out of work to explain and is surprised when he gets a call not three minutes after sending the text. She's an efficient, perceptive woman who is not surprised at all by Mingyu reaching out given Seungkwan's sudden listlessness over the past week after being inseparable from his phone and smugly secretive when asked who he was messaging.

"Really?" Mingyu can't keep the pleased note from his voice. "I mean...I'm sorry if my interference has made things difficult for either of you."

"Oh, I'm used to his moods by now," Seohee says. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Mingyu-ssi. What can I help you with? I have a dinner to get to in twenty, but let's hear it."

When Mingyu explains his idea, she bursts out laughing. "Oh, you're too good to him. Over such a small spat? He's not even mad anymore; just stubborn."

"Do you think he'll like it?" Mingyu asks. "The kind of—uh," he trips over his words, "—the date?"

"Yes," Seohee says. "I'll reserve you tickets. They're free, but people like me have our ways of securing better deals than the general public. Do you need a dinner reservation, too?"

"Oh," Mingyu says. "Thank you. No, I have other plans for dinner. Wow. You're amazing."

She snickers. "I think I'm going to like you, Kim Sweetheart. Don't let him push you around, okay?"

"I'll try," Mingyu says. She's still laughing when they hang up.

Unfortunately, both he and Seohee are powerless to the move around event schedules. Mingyu has to extend their two-week separation another week, to his chagrin and Seungkwan's vocal opposition. Lots of over-dramatic _You're bored of me, I just know it_ 's and _Whatever you're planning can't possibly take that much time_ 's.

' _It better be worth it_ ,' Seungkwan grumbles via text as the two-week deadline comes and passes.

' _I hope it is_ ,' Mingyu replies.

\---XXX---

He doesn't tell Seungkwan when he plans on meeting him, just rolls up to Seungkwan's company building in a rental car. Coordinating with Seohee, he manages to time it so he's pulling up to the curb as Seungkwan steps out of the building, talking with one of their PDs. He doesn't notice Mingyu at first—just another visitor getting dropped off—but Mingyu has the joy of watching Seungkwan do a double-take when Mingyu steps out of the car, his voice trailing off. He doesn't even excuse himself—he fights down a smile for half a second before he covers his mouth and laughs, moving to Mingyu like a magnet.

"What's this?" He asks around his laughter. "What's all this? You're my chauffeur now?"

Mingyu purses his lips into a tiny smile and shrugs with his whole upper body.

Seungkwan turns back to his companions, bemused. "Did you...?" But they shake their heads. One of the PDs unsubtly glances at Seohee, exiting the building with deceptive casualness.

"You...!" Seungkwan exclaims. "Noona, you're so sneaky; setting this up behind my back!"

She raises her hands defensively. "Don't look at me. I just helped. _He_ reached out to _me_."

Finally Seungkwan turns back to Mingyu, pursing his lips to try to hide a smile of his own. He punches Mingyu in the arm. "Thought you'd forgotten about me..." His eyes are dancing.

"Who would forget about you?" Mingyu asks, smile splitting his face.

"Stupid," Seungkwan says, punching him again. "Cheesy." And again. And then he stands on his tiptoes to wrap Mingyu in the warmest hug, his body soft and fitting easily in Mingyu's arms. "Missed you," Seungkwan confesses under his breath.

"Likewise," Mingyu replies. When they break apart, Mingyu cocks his head towards the car. "Wanna go for a ride?"

Seungkwan turns around, beaming. "Sorry everyone, this very handsome gentleman has asked me to accompany him on a drive. I will take my leave now." The PDs make shooing motions with good-natured expressions and Seohee tosses Mingyu a black plastic bag that he catches with one hand. Seungkwan looks between them, interested.

"Have fun, boys," Seohee says, waving them on.

"This is for you," Mingyu says once they get in the car, handing Seungkwan the bag. Making an inquisitive noise, Seungkwan opens the bag and thumbs through its contents—jeans and cozy navy sweatshirt, his favorite cap, tennis shoes. "So you can be comfortable," Mingyu explains when he catches Seungkwan looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "You can change once we get there."

"Get where?" Seungkwan asks.

"Hm..." Mingyu muses. "I wonder."

Seungkwan spends several minutes trying to pry answers out of Mingyu about their destination, another couple minutes wondering aloud about it, and then the remainder of the drive chattering about his day and all the dramatized episodes from this shoot or that recording. And all the while leaning halfway over the gearshift, letting his hand fall against Mingyu's arm to punctuate his story. Eyeing Mingyu like he thinks Mingyu isn't hyperaware of Seungkwan's presence and every movement.

"You look really good today," Seungkwan mumbles in between stories. His brow has a tiny, frustrated crease in it. "And your seat is pushed so far back."

"That," Mingyu says, "is the strangest compliment I have ever received."

" _You're_ strange," Seungkwan huffs, leaning away to look out the window. He goes completely still when the Gyeyang Gymnasium hall comes into view. Mingyu focuses very hard on driving and not looking at Seungkwan's reaction like he desperately wants to.

Seungkwan is silent as they pull up to the gym, silent as they are directed to guest parking, silent as Mingyu pulls into the parking space and they step out of the car. He holds a hand over his eyes to look over the great, rounded shape of the gymnasium shimmering before them as if grounding himself. Finally, he turns to Mingyu, "What—why are we..."

"The women's national volleyball team is having open practices on Saturdays for the next couple months," Mingyu says. He scratches his nose. "It's a promotional event or something, I heard about it on the news podcast I listen to the other day—"

"You listen to a _news podcast_ —"

"—And, um, I remembered it really suddenly and Seohee-noona helped me get tickets and yeah." Mingyu brings himself to look Seungkwan in the eyes. "Do you...do you like it?"

"Do I like it," Seungkwan repeats, almost exasperated. "If I were on the other side of the car I would've smacked you by now. _Do I like it_." He throws Mingyu a fond look of disdain. " _Yes_ , I like it. I'm going to go crazy."

He walks around the car. Mingyu braces himself to get smacked, but Seungkwan takes his elbows, tugs him down. Mingyu leans down, aware only as Seungkwan stands on his tiptoes and turns his head that he is going to be kissed. Seungkwan is slow and deliberate when he kisses Mingyu this time, making him feel Seungkwan's appreciation tingling down his spine to the tips of his toes. It is over a moment later but Seungkwan doesn't let go of Mingyu, holding onto the sleeve of his cardigan. Seungkwan's eyelashes flutter and the last, unmelted part of Mingyu's brain drips out his ears.

"Wow," he says in English.

Seungkwan sticks his free hand into Mingyu's side pocket and fishes around until he finds what he's looking for. He lets Mingyu go to apply the lip balm, smacking his lips together a couple times. At Mingyu's curious look he says, "What? I like your flavor better."

"Oh," Mingyu squeaks. "Um, your clothes, don't forget—"

Seungkwan grabs the black plastic bag and swings it over his shoulder, looking unreasonably smug. "Shall we?"

Mingyu has been to his fair share of gyms to play basketball with his friends, but not even his university gym can compare to sheer scale of a gym built to host international competitions. The court itself—badminton converted to volleyball—is flanked by imposing rows of seats that rise three levels. The ceiling is a crisscross of scaffolding and track lighting that creates a spotlight effect on the court, where the volleyball team is running laps to warm up. On the walls—flags of countries all across the globes and accolades of the local professional badminton and volleyball teams displayed on proud banners. And even though Seungkwan has been to this gymnasium before, Mingyu's sudden stop as they enter the hall gives him pause as well and they survey the enormity of the place.

"Kind of cool, isn't it?" Seungkwan prompts shyly.

"So cool," Mingyu agrees. "I can't even name all the flags they have hung up."

"The team is even cooler," Seungkwan boasts. "Come on; where did noona get us seats?"

As it turns out, Seohee's influence extended to the point of being able to get them seats that weren't even offered. She has them seated at a table on the floor outside the court usually reserved for press. There are a few reporters and crew at adjacent tables; they cast curious glances Seungkwan's way as he and Mingyu are escorted to a table of their own. The little hand-drawn 'RESERVED' placard makes Mingyu insanely embarrassed but Seungkwan seems unbothered, eyes turned to the players as soon as they sit down.

"Huh, I guess Miya is still out for physical therapy..." He shakes himself, smiling at Mingyu. "I'd better get changed," he says. "Don't want too many people recognizing me and causing a stir." He winks at Mingyu.

Mingyu doesn't know how many people would be looking out for Boo Seungkwan at a volleyball practice in Incheon, but then again the reporters next to them are still giving Mingyu assessing looks, so what did he know? Without Seungkwan at his side radiating confidence and ease in the too-big gymnasium Mingyu feels out of place. He hunches over and scrolls through Twitter self-consciously as more fans file into the stands behind him.

He looks up at the excited bark of Seungkwan's voice but any response he could have offered gets stuck as a giant lump in his throat. It's one thing to see Seungkwan's casual clothes in a bag and think _oh, he would look cute in these_ and another to see him dressed down and comfy-looking, the ends of his navy sweater swallowing his wrists and his hands down to the knuckles. The baseball cap pushes his bangs down into his eyes but there's no way to disguise the delight on his face as he calls out again and waves. Not to Mingyu, Mingyu realizes, but a severe-looking woman in her forties with arms and legs like tree trunks. She turns at Seungkwan's summons and cracks a smile, embracing him and kissing him on both cheeks before they launch into a spirited conversation Mingyu can't make out.

He returns to their table after catching up with the woman, throwing himself into the seat next to Mingyu while Mingyu tries to keep his voice casual, like he hadn't been ogling Seungkwan smiling and laughing and fixing his baseball cap as he talked. "Friend of yours?"

"Stefani Lavarini," Seungkwan says. "The coach."

Mingyu pauses. "Of...the women's national volleyball team?"

"Yes?" Seungkwan says. "Who else?"

"You're _friends_ with the coach of an Olympic team?"

"Well," Seungkwan says. "She was only an assistant coach at the last Games. I helped coordinate some cheers and banners and bought a meal for the team one day. We hit it off a bit. I don't know if we're _friends_ , really," Seungkwan puffs up his chest, obviously pleased, "but I text her and the team good luck before their championships and I've gone to her place to watch a few matches, so that's pretty cool."

He adjusts his cap again and pets his bangs into place in that distracting way that makes Mingyu wish he knew whether or not he's allowed to kiss Seungkwan in public. Seungkwan catches him looking and misinterprets his flabbergasted look. "My makeup was bugging me," he explains. "I took it off after I got changed."

He stretches his arms over his head. "You'll have to deal with my natural looks for a while, sorry." He offers Mingyu a self-effacing grin.

Mingyu tries to think of a response that isn't _I want to eat you_ or something equally as incomprehensible. "It's, uh. I kind of can't stop looking at you?"

"That bad?" Seungkwan laughs.

"No," Mingyu says. "Good. Like, really good."

"Oh." Seungkwan's smile softens and he tilts his chin up. "Hm. Okay." He looks extraordinarily pleased.

The practice starts soon after, absorbing Seungkwan's attention entirely. He twirls a pen in his hands as the girls start serve-receive drills, the smile melting off his face and changing into something serious and charged. Mingyu's eyes follow the trajectory of the ball as it is served and received back and forth, but Seungkwan's eyes jump from player to player, almost ignoring the ball altogether. He makes notes on the pad of paper that had been in the bag every now and then with no pattern that Mingyu can discern. When Mingyu happens to look over at the coach, he's shocked to see that same charged look in her eyes as she watches her team.

Mingyu hadn't realized that when Seungkwan said he was a serious fan of volleyball, he meant a _serious_ fan. The notes he takes are shorthand and practiced. He mutters under his breath occasionally things like, 'Oh, that's a nice soft receive,' and 'Mm, favoring her left,' and 'Ho, since when can Hyunjinnie block that dynamically?' When the drills end and practice shifts into a practice game, Seungkwan is quiet during the rally but claps politely after each point and calls out 'Nice block!' and 'Nice serve!' to both sides equally. Mingyu tries his hardest to watch the girls' practice because he knows this is important to Seungkwan, but it's hard to take his eyes off of Seungkwan's serious profile, his straight eyelashes, the heavy earring he left in place.

At the end of the practice game, the side with the girl Seungkwan called 'Hyunjinnie' comes out the victor. The gymnasium erupts in polite clapping and shouts for favorite players. Seungkwan rises to his feet, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouts, "Wow, Hyunjinnie finally learned how to defend!"

The girl in the number '11' jersey whips around, her hair smacking one of her teammates in the face. She scans the crowd with a scowl until she sees Seungkwan grinning and waving. Her scowl brightens into a toothy smile and she laughs, trotting over to their table. Mingyu, realizes, distantly, that he is about to be in conversation with an Olympic athlete.

"Oppa!" Hyunjin calls, hugging Seungkwan over the table. "You're so mean! I've gotten better!"

"About time," Seungkwan teases. "Thinking about going for middle blocker?"

Hyunjin pulls a face. "Hell no. I'd rather die. I'll leave it to that demon, Ailee-unnie—"

"Oh, did I hear my name?" Another girl, easily as tall as Mingyu, approaches them from the other side of the court. She pulls Hyunjin into a good-natured headlock. "It's thanks to this demon unnie that you can block, eh?"

"Ugh, yes, whatever," Hyunjin groans, weaseling her way out. She socks Ailee in the arm with a grin. "I didn't break this time."

"I saw," Ailee says. "Maybe I'll recommend a position change after all..." Hyunjin goes pale. "Kidding. You're not that good."

As Hyunjin pouts, Ailee turns back to Seungkwan. "Seungkwannie, it's been too long. You missed our last home game."

"Ugh, I know," he says with a scowl. "I was filming for _Law of the Jungle_ that Friday and noona wouldn't let me worm my way out of it."

"Still good to see you at practice," Ailee says. They fistbump. "Come for a team dinner some time. We have a couple new reserve players; I'll introduce you."

"Yeah, I noticed. 17 and 14, right?" He sighs. "Miya still recovering from surgery?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin says. "But she should be back for light practice in a couple weeks. She'll be sad she missed you. Come to dinner for sure!" Hyunjin casts a sly look at Mingyu for the first time. "I'm sure coach wouldn't mind paying for a couple extras."

"Right, I wanted to ask," Ailee says, looking at Mingyu too. "Who's this?"

Mingyu crosses his hands in front of him and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Seungkwan cuts in. "This is Kim Mingyu, the kind hyung who got me tickets to see you. My date."

He exchanges glances with Mingyu, a sly smile of his own on his lips. Mingyu's ears go red and he bows politely to each of the girls. "Nice to meet you," he says. "You're all quite good."

"And you're tall!" Hyunjin says. "And fit. Nice going, Seungkwan-oppa. Are you an athlete, too?"

Mingyu laughs and touches the back of his neck. "No, no. Just a photographer."

"'Just,'" Hyunjin says, wiggling her eyebrows. "Oppa's so picky; you can't be _just_ some photographer."

"I'm persistent," Mingyu says at the same time Seungkwan says, "He did my lingerie shoot."

"The Victoria's Secret one?" Ailee's brows shoot up. "Oh my god, you're a miracle worker. You made Seungkwannie look so hot."

Seungkwan's pupils shake. "Excuse me? Excuse me? A miracle worker?"

The girls giggle.

"Whatever," Seungkwan huffs. "Hyung thinks I'm as handsome as an actor, right?"

Mingyu hums and taps his chin. The girls giggle harder. Seungkwan raises a fist dramatically and Mingyu pulls Seungkwan against his side, slipping an arm around his waist. "Hmm...yeah. You are." He grins at Seungkwan’s flustered look.

"You're all terrible," Seungkwan mutters but his hand slides into Mingyu's back pocket.

The rest of the team eventually notice that they're short two members and, recognizing Seungkwan, rush over to say hello. Mingyu ends up shaking the hands of tens of girls who look like they could bench-press him while chatting about the previous night's drama episode as well as the scary-looking coach who kisses him on both cheeks. Mingyu gets asked if he's an actor or an idol by more than a couple of the girls and he's sure he's not imagining the smugly satisfied look on Seungkwan's face every time Mingyu has to laugh and assure them he's a regular civilian.

Of course, once Seungkwan's name gets thrown around the reporters put the pieces together there are cameras on all of them, capturing Boo Seungkwan, well-regarded TV entertainer, sitting in on a practice in support of the national women's volleyball team and enjoying a quick chat following practice, accompanied by an unknown but rather handsome young man.

They leave after greeting the team and exchanging promises to meet up for dinner sometime soon before someone tries to corner Seungkwan for a word. Mingyu lets his hand fall to the small of Seungkwan's back as he escorts him out and is pleased that Seungkwan allows it. It's dark when they make it outside and the air has a chill to it that has them jogging across the parking lot. Mingyu cranks the heat and seat warmers as soon as he starts the car. He rubs his hands in front of the vent, wishing he'd had the foresight to bring gloves.

Seungkwan is staring at him. Or, not staring, but gazing at Mingyu with deep fondness that Mingyu is too embarrassed to look up at.

"Hey," Seungkwan says gently, reaching across the console to wrap his hand over Mingyu's knee. Mingyu finally looks up at him with a shy smile.

"That was..." Seungkwan's eyes wander, searching for the right words. "I had so much fun. No one has done something that thoughtful for me in a long while. It was perfect. You're..." He smiles at nothing. "You're really great, Mr. Kim. I want to spend more time with you."

"Do you forgive me?" Mingyu asks, tentative.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. "Yes, you oaf. You're just so..."

He lifts his hand from Mingyu's knee to Mingyu's lips with his thumb. Mingyu's eyelashes flutter. "Handsome," Seungkwan murmurs. "And kind. Aren't you supposed to pick one or the other?"

Mingyu kisses Seungkwan's thumb in response.

"And famous, or you should be, according to the volleyball team," he adds and Mingyu groans and leans back, laughing a little.

"I think Hyunjin put her number in my phone," Mingyu says, shaking his head. "I know she heard you call me your date. You did call me your date, right?"

Seungkwan's lips twitch, amused. "Yes. But I respect the hustle. For all she knows you could be a hired escort."

"You _did_ imply I had seen you in your underwear," Mingyu says.

"You've seen me in worse than that," Seungkwan says.

Mingyu thinks of Seungkwan's kneeling down between Mingyu's legs and sitting back on his heels. Seungkwan must be thinking of that, too, because he suddenly can't meet Mingyu's eyes. He clears his throat and they exchange glances, giggling when their eyes meet.

"We're _children_ ," Seungkwan despairs. "It's not that funny."

"I sure hope we're not children," Mingyu says. "That's illegal."

Seungkwan slaps him. "Shut _up_. Drive the car, stupid."

Mingyu's still giggling as he backs out of the parking space.

\---XXX---

Predictably, as soon as Mingyu keys in the code to his apartment, Seungkwan invites himself in to snoop around. He's polite enough—toeing his shoes off at the door and padding down the hall with his hands clasped behind his back, not touching anything. But he takes in every inch of Mingyu's modest but tidy apartment with sharp eyes and doesn't let a single detail slip his attention.

Mingyu lets him. He doesn't mind Seungkwan's overbearing personality. He actually likes the familiarity and how easily Seungkwan becomes comfortable in the space. It makes him think about seeing Seungkwan here regularly, reaching for the right cupboard the first time to grab a cup and sorting trash in the right bin without Mingyu having to tell him. Maybe it's a territory thing—Minghao also likes to walk through every room of Mingyu's apartment when he comes over. Or maybe it's just the effect Mingyu has on people; he makes them feel welcome to exist in his home.

He hopes it's the latter.

"I like your plants," Seungkwan reports back after exploring every room. "The signs you made for them are really cute."

"Thanks," Mingyu says. They're in the kitchen now; the most expensive part of Mingyu's apartment and something he is still working to pay off. Hence the lack of washer and dryer. But Mingyu would rather walk down the block with his laundry every week than settle for a cheaper stove top or single basin sink.

He's on his phone pulling up a recipe when Seungkwan comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Mingyu's waist. "So," Seungkwan says, "are we going to order food? You're lovely to look at but I can't very well eat my date."

"You could if you weren't a coward," Mingyu says, ignoring the way his skin prickles when Seungkwan calls him his 'date' once more.

A mistake—Seungkwan isn't the type to back down from a challenge and he bites lightly at Mingyu's upper arm. It's really only the flirtatious press of teeth to clothed skin but Mingyu still shivers. Seungkwan must feel it. He rests his chin between Mingyu's shoulder blades and hums. "Oh, I _see_."

Mingyu abandons his phone, turning in Seungkwan's arms so Seungkwan's chin rests against his sternum, looking at him with mischief in his eyes. Mingyu sighs and shakes his head. "If you're going to embarrass me on our not-sex-having date, the least you could do is roll around on my sheets so I have something to jerk off to later."

Seungkwan laughs and leans back, arms still looped around Mingyu's waist. "Maybe I already did."

"Horrible," Mingyu says, pulling off Seungkwan's cap and running his fingers through Seungkwan's hair. "But so cute."

Seungkwan preens. Then, "Okay but seriously, can we eat?"

"Yes," Mingyu says, rolling his eyes. "But we're not ordering delivery. A man has an entire labeled herb garden and you ask him to order food? You should be asking him what he's cooking for dinner."

"Okay," Seungkwan says, delighted. "What's for dinner, Mingyu-hyung?"

"Seafood stew, black bean noodles, potato fritters, and a salad so we can pretend we're being healthy," Mingyu lists. Seungkwan makes an appreciative noise. "For some reason my hot friend's not-so-secret admirer keeps getting him seafood platters in a weird attempt at wooing him even though he's...allergic to seafood."

"Oh, ouch." Seungkwan laughs. "And he passes them on to you? Lucky."

Mingyu shrugs. "He doesn't want to hurt his feelings and he kind of likes the guy anyway, so. Abalone and lobster for us! Yay!"

"Yay!" Seungkwan echoes.

Mingyu had also expected that Seungkwan, despite having absolutely no idea of his way around a kitchen—confirmed with Seohee, who assured Mingyu he would hold the wrong end of a knife given enough distraction—would regardless want to help or participate in some way. Mingyu gives Seungkwan the foolproof task of cutting up vegetables (with one of Mingyu's duller knives) and coating the potato slices in batter for frying while Mingyu works with heat, several pots, and about five recipes patched together.

His tasks complete, Seungkwan watches Mingyu furrow his brows and hop between active cooking areas. "You're really good," Seungkwan says admiringly. He's sitting up on the barstool on his knees, half his body draped across the island.

Mingyu throws him a grateful look. "Well," he admits, "I did pick a few easy recipes I knew I could handle. Wait until I start getting really experimental. Results may vary, for real."

"I'll be your guinea pig," Seungkwan says. "I don't think I've turned my nose up at a meal since I turned fifteen."

Mingyu laughs.

All laid out, the meal is colorful and smells wonderful. Mingyu cocks his head to the side, surprised himself at how well it turned out. "Must be your magical, fumbling touch," he teases Seungkwan.

"I know where you keep your knives," Seungkwan says darkly.

"Correction: you know where I keep my _dull_ knives."

"Hey!"

He makes Seungkwan sit for one picture in front of the food, hands pressed to his cheeks and his hip cocked to the side in what is meant to be a ridiculous pose but just serves to charm Mingyu even more. He wants to tease Seungkwan more, but the food smells good and they're both antsy from hunger so they tear into it in relative silence until the void has been filled.

"Ugh," Mingyu groans appreciatively. "Thank you Wonwoo-hyung for the food!"

"Thank you, Wonwoo-hyung!" Seungkwan echoes. "What the hell, though. You're really too good at cooking. And you're tidy? I feel like I'm about to be pranked."

Mingyu snorts around a sip of the soup. "What would the punchline even be? 'Surprise, actually my apartment is a set and I'm a famous chef wearing a Mingyu skin suit?'"

"I don't know. Maybe you have really gross foot fungus?"

"Dude. I'm literally eating."

"I'm full!" Seungkwan announces, his plate and bowl cleaned. "And now I am ready to be rolled to bed where I will sleep forever. What a wonderful meal to eat before I die."

"You're so dramatic."

"Yes, I know," Seungkwan says. "It is quite literally in my job description to be this way."

Right. "I keep forgetting that," Mingyu admits.

Seungkwan, who had been leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and hands folded over his chest, opens one eye to peer at Mingyu. "Forgetting what?"

"That you're like, really famous." Mingyu freezes. "Oh, sorry. I don't mean that to be an insult or anything."

Seungkwan closes his eye again and smiles. "I wouldn't be sitting here with you if I thought you thought about me being famous."

"Well, I'm sure it would be weird to date a superfan, but..."

"Even when you walked me to my cab that first day," Seungkwan says, "I knew you were the right level of uninformed about me as a TV personality. And since then, you've been nothing but genuinely interested in me as a person. Why would I care how many programs you've seen me on?"

He's right. Mingyu doesn't care that Boo Seungkwan, TV personality, is sitting at his dining room table; he cares that Boo Seungkwan, fun and sexy acquaintance turned date is sitting with him. Mingyu cares more about the knee drawn to Seungkwan's chest and his sock-covered toes hanging over the edge of the chair. He cares about Seungkwan's messy brown hair and his bare face. His small, upturned nose and bird-like mouth. There are a lot of things Mingyu cares to look at and think about when it comes to Boo Seungkwan. Fame is just too boring when Mingyu remembers what Seungkwan's mouth feels like on his.

"You're right," Mingyu says. "That's not what matters." He must say it in a way that betrays what he's feeling because Seungkwan opens his eyes to look at Mingyu again. He raises an eyebrow with half a smirk as if asking Mingyu, _Well, what are you going to do about it?_

Mingyu gets out of his chair. He stands over Seungkwan, one hand cupping his cheek and tilting his face up as he leans down to kiss him. Seungkwan's eyes slide closed as Mingyu kisses him, letting Mingyu's mouth shape his with slow, heavy movements. Mingyu feels their size difference more than ever with Seungkwan's passivity, feeling as if he could swallow Seungkwan whole if he wanted to. He licks into Seungkwan's mouth instead and feels Seungkwan exhale through his nose in excited little puffs. Seungkwan leans up and into Mingyu. Adoring and wanting. It makes Mingyu burn.

"Please stay," Mingyu murmurs against Seungkwan's lips when they part, his eyes still closed. "Not to—not for sex, just—"

"Yes," Seungkwan breathes against him.

Mingyu lifts him from the chair and Seungkwan wraps his legs around Mingyu's waist, unwilling to let go. Mingyu huffs gently, a laugh, and carries him back to his room. They kiss for a while longer on Mingyu's bed, Mingyu pushing Seungkwan's back into his mattress in an unsubtle attempt to get Seungkwan's scent tangled in his sheets and pillowcases. Mingyu toys with the end of his shirt but Seungkwan's hands cover his to stop him.

"If you take it off," Seungkwan murmurs, eyes closed, "I'm not sure I'll be able to keep my word."

"But I sleep nude," Mingyu says against Seungkwan's mouth.

"If you were anyone else I would call you on that," Seungkwan says with a sigh. "But you? I wouldn't put it past _you_."

And while Mingyu would very much like Seungkwan to not keep his word, he understands the significance of it and respects the decision. Ultimately, he thinks it's for the best, too. But...

"Alright," Mingyu relents. "The clothes stay on. You won't see anything." He removes his hands from his shirt and replaces them with Seungkwan's. "But that doesn't mean you can't use your imagination." He puts his hands on Seungkwan's and slides them up underneath his shirt and across his abdomen.

"Seungkwannie can touch," Mingyu whispers before kissing Seungkwan once again. Seungkwan's fingers shiver but he presses his palms flat against Mingyu's stomach and explores his skin with firm, possessive fingers.

"You're bad for me," Seungkwan says with a sigh later, once they decide it's time for sleep. He's using Mingyu's toothbrush with Mingyu's towel slung around his neck. Wet from Mingyu's shower. In Mingyu's apartment. Changed into Mingyu's spare shirt and boxers.

He's feeling a little smug, yeah.

Seungkwan bemoans his fall from grace. "I was a good boy before I met you, you know. I wouldn't kiss on the first date. That was like, one of my golden rules. Keep 'em guessing and all that. And now I get horny as soon as some sexy little thing offers to take off his shirt. Dear lord."

"That's me, I'm the sexy little thing," Mingyu says cheerfully. Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

Still, he wraps himself around Mingyu's back the moment they're in bed, one leg thrown over Mingyu's thigh. "Mmm," he grumbles happily and rubs his cheek against Mingyu's back. "You're a great little spoon. Very good to grab."

"You're welcome, I think," Mingyu says. He tries to stay up, to hear and feel the moment Seungkwan falls asleep against him, but the gentle rhythm of Seungkwan's breathing and his pervasive warmth lulls Mingyu into a deep, safe calm that has him out only minutes after they get comfortable.

The next morning, when Seungkwan stumbles out of Mingyu's bedroom bleary-eyed with half his hair sticking straight up, Mingyu laughs so hard he cries.

\---XXX---

"So," Sangyeon says one day while he and Mingyu are breaking down a set, "are you and that alpha model guy, like..."

"Huh?" Mingyu looks up from the tripod he's folding down. "What model guy?"

"You know," Sangyeon says, avoiding Mingyu's eyes. "The one that comes by our studio every now and then to pick you up?"

"Oh, Seungkwan," Mingyu says. It's been a long time since he considered Seungkwan 'that alpha model guy,' but that _is_ how he had referred to Seungkwan on the day he asked Sangyeon for his number. "What about him?"

"Well." Sangyeon stretches packing tape over a box with a horrible shriek. "Is he like...your boyfriend or something?"

Mingyu spends a long moment thinking _Dammit, Seungmin_ before he realizes that Seungmin probably had to tell Sangyeon at least an abridged version of the asking-for-Seohee's-number debacle as a matter of company policy. And Seungkwan did pick up Mingyu after work often enough that even Sangyeon, in all his obliviousness to romantic relationships, would notice.

"Oh," he says finally. "No, we're just seeing each other casually." They had been on dates, of course, but never talked about commitment in any way. He could probably be seeing or at least talking to someone else if he really wanted to, but what was the point? He only wanted to talk to and spend time with Seungkwan and Minghao in any meaningful capacity.

"Sure hangs around your work a lot for _casually_ ," Sangyeon grumbles.

Mingyu grins. "Aw, is hyungie jealous? I'll pay more attention to you; pat, pat."

Sangyeon scowls and swats away Mingyu's hand. "Who'd be jealous? You're such a brat." Mingyu nuzzles his cheek against Sangyeon's shoulder and Sangyeon tolerates it stiffly. "I'm just looking after you, got it? If that guy is toying with your feelings and shirking commitment you just say the word. I'll make him regret it."

"No way. You'd probably break his jaw accidentally and go to jail."

"People don't go to jail for accidentally breaking someone's jaw," Sangyeon scoffs. "The problem is making it look like an accident..."

Mingyu laughs though his nose. "Don't think about it too hard, Sangyeon-hyung. My virtue is safe with him."

Sangyeon's eyebrows shoot up his face. "He's not putting out?"

Mingyu smacks himself in the face. "I hate you. No, I just mean that no one is taking advantage of anyone. We're casual because we want to be, not because Seungkwan is 'shirking commitment.' What the hell, by the way. We're not talking about military duty here."

"So he _is_ putting out..." Sangyeon narrows his eyes in thought.

"Now I really want to know what Seungmin told you," Mingyu says with a sigh.

He leaves Sangyeon to think whatever he wants about Seungkwan and Mingyu's thing and starts packing away the lighting and monitoring equipment into cases. Admittedly, Mingyu is treating his thing with Seungkwan differently than he had with his other flings, but that's because everything about Seungkwan is different. If it could've gone wrong; it went wrong—he had floundered his way through getting Seungkwan's number, blundered his way through their date at the bar, and then ended the night in tears because his baggage very nearly crushed their tentative relationship with its weight. The two of them of them were volatile; when they came together the reaction was explosive.

Mingyu and Seungkwan shouldn't work. His other dates—the ones orchestrated by Minghao with nice, compatible, stable people who were within their friend circles and worked in the same industry—those should work. But Mingyu thinks he gets it. It's the same reason Mingyu and Minghao will never work in that way.

"You again?" Dawon says with dramatized exasperation.

"Me again!" Seungkwan says cheerfully. He marches into the studio in a pastel blue peacoat that dwarfs his body. His eyes find Mingyu's within seconds.

"Who even lets you in," she says, fighting down a smile. "Go, shoo; your hubby isn't off the clock yet." Mingyu grins and turns back to the box he's packing.

"Can I wait in the prop room?" Seungkwan asks.

"No," Dawon says, in a way that means _I know you're going to anyway and you're lucky I like you enough to let you get away with it_.

"Thank you, noona!" Seungkwan chirps. "You're looking very chic and not at all exhausted from a full day's work!"

Dawon, wearing her usual top to bottom casual black working clothes and looking like she'd run all over town looking for replacement props for string lights that suddenly stopped working (because she had), socks Seungkwan in the arm at full strength. Seungkwan yelps.

"Your man has a death wish," she tells Mingyu as they finish up the stockroom tally.

Mingyu grins harder. "He's great, isn't he? I like him a lot."

Dawon rolls her eyes. "Whatever, loser. Okay, we're done here. Go see Seungmin to clock out and then get that annoying kid out of my studio." Mingyu salutes dutifully.

He finds Seungkwan in the prop room taking a selfie with a skeleton, its arm draped over his shoulder. Mingyu leans against the door frame. "You know that's a real skeleton, right?"

Seungkwan's face drains of color and he skitters to Mingyu's side. "What? Gross. You should've warned me." Mingyu flicks him on the forehead. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Noona did tell you not to come in here," Mingyu reminds him.

"Hm. Touché." Seungkwan wraps an arm around Mingyu's waist and leans into him. "What's their name?"

"Edith. She's been passed around a bit so no one knows her real name. Allen felt bad for her so he named her Edith."

Seungkwan bows. "Nice to meet you, Edith-noona. Sorry for taking pictures without your permission. If you want to contact someone about the incident, let me refer you to my manager—"

"Are you guys talking to Edith?" Dawon says, appearing behind them and making them both jump. She shakes her head and pushes past them. "So fucking weird."

Mingyu and Seungkwan exchange shy glances, giggling a little. Mingyu leans down and Seungkwan inclines his head to meet Mingyu in a kiss. "Should we invite Edith-noona to kalbi with us?" Seungkwan asks against Mingyu's mouth.

Mingyu giggles louder. "I think that's a little insensitive to her condition."

"Oh, you're right." Seungkwan takes Mingyu's hand and tugs on him lightly, the softest curl to his lips. Mingyu goes without fighting and lets Seungkwan lead him out of the studio.

Mingyu gets it, he really does. He is a tame boy; a domestic boy. He cooks and cleans and looks after himself and works a job with predictable hours. He has a dream he is working towards little by little that starts and ends with him laying down the bricks of his own home. He is a good boy and he could be content with another good, tame person at his side as he fulfills his dream.

But Seungkwan is headstrong and unsettled. Like a shark, he always needs to be moving, talking, touching, experiencing the world. He makes Mingyu wild; brings the unpredictability of his world into Mingyu's safe, domestic life. Mingyu could be content being safe and tame, but he would always wonder _what if_. Seungkwan does not let him wonder _what if_.

Seungkwan says, _This is me and this is you and this is what we can do together_.

Seungkwan says, _If you will chase me, I will chase you in return_.

It's written in the way he looks at Mingyu, how he sticks close to Mingyu's side, how he teases him, how he kisses him: _This is how we can be happy_.

No, they are not dating. But, Mingyu thinks, maybe...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a bit greedy for comments since this fic is my baby, so if you have the time pls spoil me :3 and if you have twitter, i lurk over at [@whiskerprince ](https://www.twitter.com/whiskerprince)


	3. And today won't know where to begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With predictably bad timing, Mingyu's heat arrives two weeks later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again i want to say thank you to everyone reading. author about to get emotional so feel free to skip but: this fic has given me an insane amount of joy to write (i finished it in just over two weeks haha). i so badly wanted to write something tender and real and boogyu came to me at JUST the right time. i have struggled to convey even a fraction of the happiness their irl friendship, this fictional relationship, and writing itself has given me, and to read your comments that these feelings are reaching you all has given me that joy again tenfold. 
> 
> i used to really struggle to write Real feelings, even as recent as two years ago, so to get these kinds of messages knowing that my vision has been received and understood is incredibly valuable to me on a very personal level.
> 
> thank you all so much. i hope you enjoy.

With predictably bad timing, Mingyu's heat arrives two weeks later.

Their company is in the middle of shooting stills for an upcoming historical drama that requires all hands on deck for set up, breakdown, transport, and management of a set that is outside the comfort of their studio. It's so hectic that Mingyu stays on for the duration of his heat's onset even though he's plagued with dizzy spells and sweats.

"I'm sending you home if you so much as stumble," Seungmin snaps at Mingyu as he chugs a water bottle during a scene switch. Seungmin's temper is worse than usual with the lack of cohesion between the film crew, production crew, and their own company. He's extra sharp with Mingyu, but his scolding comes from a place of concern and guilt that he has to lean on Mingyu when he's in bad condition. "I've got my eye on you," Seungmin says finally before leaving Mingyu to rest. He doesn't have enough time to keep tabs on Mingyu—they both know that—but Mingyu isn't such an idiot that he'd keep working when he can't see straight.

He collapses in bed when he gets home and falls asleep instantly. The next morning, his shirt is stuck to his skin and soaked through and he feels the worst parts of being drunk and hungover at the same time. He paws for his phone and texts Seungmin that he'll be out for the next four days before falling back asleep.

When he wakes for the second time, he's _freezing_ and the sweat-soaked shirt is like ice on his skin. Mingyu stumbles to the bathroom and turns the shower as hot as it can go before stepping in fully-clothed. He lets the hot water melt away the full body chills and much of the pain and dizziness. When he emerges, he has a new lease on life and is back to sweating.

It will be like this for the next day and a half—hot spells and chills alternating faster and faster as he enters the height of heat. He will spend two days out of his mind with lust and then he will emerge from the fog a day later dehydrated and tired, but no worse for wear.

It frustrated him, at first. His unusual condition meant he couldn't take suppressants and therefore had the full four heats every year instead of just the one during the Season. Taking time off for heat affected his work ethic and interrupted projects in a way that while completely understandable, felt unprofessional to him. Like he was letting down his coworkers in some way. But going through his natural cycle meant he had an easier time during the Season with a milder heat. And many times his heats acted as a brake on his work drive and forced him to rest. Mostly he had just gotten used to it.

Mingyu strips down to nothing, grabs a bowl of yogurt and fruit from the fridge, and settles down in bed with his laptop to binge dramas.

There's no problem until late in the evening when Mingyu gets a call from Seungkwan and without thinking, answers it.

" _Good evening, Minggoo-hyung_ ," Seungkwan greets. " _I'm calling to pry you for spoilers from that drama you're working on so I can post on K-Drama Predictions and get famous as a psychic. Also I like you._ "

Mingyu's head swims. "Uh, I wasn't at work today."

" _Well that's lame_ ," Seungkwan says with a sigh. " _What's up; feeling okay?_ "

"Oh, shit," Mingyu says, realizing why alarm bells are going off in his mind. "I can't talk to you right now. I'm in heat."

" _You're_ — _what?_ " Seungkwan says.

"I'm—uh, fuck—I'm like max two hours away from the height of it, I really should not be—"

Seungkwan swears and hangs up. Mingyu gets a text seconds later: _'YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME OMG!!!!!!!!!'_

Followed by: _'Sorry T___T That was kind of rude. Just worried about you. Are you okay?'_

Mingyu laughs. _'It's fine. And you don't need to worry, I'm fine. Pretty used to it by now. I doubt I'll do anything crazy after hearing your voice for a few seconds. Anyway, it's my fault for picking up the phone.'_

 _'I didn't know if it was like...instant,'_ Seungkwan says. _'Ugh, I really know nothing about omegas. Gotta change that.'_

 _'Well, I'm a special case,'_ Mingyu says, smiling at his screen. Yeah, whatever, the heat is making him feel extra fuzzy about Seungkwan, but it's still sweet that Seungkwan wants to learn about omegas just to be more sensitive to Mingyu. Mingyu tells him that. _'You're sweet. But really, it's just a precaution. I've never heat-dialed Minghao before or anything.'_

 _'I am not sweet,'_ Seungkwan says. Mingyu can practically see him huff. _'I am trying to be responsible for this really cool guy I know and not because of something as tender as ~feelings~'_

A pause and then, _'But you never had sex with Xu Minghao.'_

 _'I never had sex with you either,'_ Mingyu points out.

It's a mistake. Their chat falls silent. Mingyu can feel the tension stretching between them, even halfway across the city. It's almost tangible; the memory of Seungkwan's mouth on him, Seungkwan's fingers inside him for that brief moment. It skips and repeats like a broken record in Mingyu's mind, close enough that if he reached out he could touch it and hold it in his hand. Seungkwan doesn't feel like he's across the river. He feels like he's in the next room, waiting.

Maybe, Mingyu thinks sheepishly, there is a legitimate reason why Dr. Oh told him not to talk to Seungkwan when he's in heat.

 _'You're right,'_ Seungkwan says finally, and that's the end of it.

Mingyu wakes up at 3:47 in the morning gasping and too hard to see straight. He flips onto his back to relieve the suffocating feeling in his chest and lets his hand fall between his legs. Later—heat aid. Later—fluids. If he doesn't take the edge off right now, he is going to die. It's infuriating how many times he has to come for his body to stop trying to turn itself inside out with need for sex and Mingyu is so mad by the end of it that he falls back asleep instead of hydrating like he should. It doesn't matter—he's up again in three hours for the next round.

It takes a considerable amount of effort, but Mingyu manages to drag himself to the fridge and dig out the sports drinks. He hauls them back his bed and tucks them safely in the bottom corner of his bed with the jerky and dried squid that he would live off for the next forty hours. The rest of his bed has already been converted to a nest—pillows and the odd plushie stacked in a mountain at the head of his bed and the sides stacked with piles of microfiber blankets with only a tiny space for Mingyu to curl up in. He drains one of the sports drinks and does just that, curling into a ball and snoozing until his libido wakes him up once more.

Twenty hours in, Mingyu feels something is amiss. This heat is par for the course so far—scratching around an unscratchable itch and mechanically eating and drinking not because he's hungry or thirsty but because he knows he should be—but there's a different impulse dogging him every time he picks up his glorified dildo and thinks, _here we go again_. He's restless and prickling all over. When he's exhausted from jerking off the blankets and pillow nest are a welcome reprieve from the pain, but when he's in the moment he wants to snarl and kick them off and tear apart everything that touches him. The enormity of his frustrated rage frightens him.

It takes an instance of opening and closing his phone four times in a row for Mingyu to realize he's waiting for Seungkwan to text him.

He nearly flings his phone across the room. He _really_ should not have answered Seungkwan's call.

It's worse once he realizes the restlessness is an expectation of a mate. Seungkwan's scent in his apartment is too faint to affect him in any meaningful way, but Mingyu's lizard hindbrain remembers, intimately, how Seungkwan's scent made him feel. It knows that Seungkwan is an alpha, confers with Mingyu's thinking brain and confirms that yes, we like this particular alpha and he likes us, so why isn't he here right now? Why isn't he making this pain go away? He should be here. He is ours. It is infuriating that the one who we like and who likes us is leaving us to suffer.

Mingyu shudders. He's only ever had his one long-term boyfriend help him with his heat but he knows that instinct. How oversensitive he gets during onset; how he snarls and bats away the slightest touch—an ancient defense mechanism to ward off all except the most worthy mate. How that sensitivity turns itself inside out at the height of his heat and makes him wail for that mate to be there, pressed against him and in him. Seungkwan isn't here and Seungkwan isn't his, but Mingyu's instincts don't understand things like _reason_ and _decency_. Mingyu wants him.

And it makes him furious. If only Seungkwan had not called him for such a stupid reason—but no, that's not fair. It's his fault. He had been too tired from work to text Seungkwan as usual but he could have told Seungkwan he was entering heat. He should have. Why didn't he? Seungkwan would have understood. He would have kept radio silence and left Mingyu alone to deal with it. Was that what he wanted?

He was afraid, Mingyu realizes. He was afraid that Seungkwan would leave him alone. He was also afraid Seungkwan would not want to leave him alone.

On one hand: _I will leave you alone to deal with your heat because I am uninvolved and I do not want to be involved._

On the other: _Why do I need to leave you alone? I'm not your partner so it shouldn't matter if I talk to you, right?_

Mingyu shoves his face into a pillow and falls asleep.

At the thirty-hour mark, the heat has become unbearable. It's worse than last year's Season. Mingyu knows now it's his own stupid fault for putting his feelings before his health, but in the moment he can only whimper in pain. He can't bring himself to eat and barely drinks. It's the shame eating away at him as much as the pain and he can only huddle in a miserable little ball and count down the hours until his heat breaks.

Thirty-six hours in, he pulls himself together enough to shower and force more liquids down. He feels more clear-headed though not any less in pain and as if acknowledging his struggle, the universe gifts him with a series of unread texts from Seungkwan when he gets out of the shower.

Mingyu stares at his phone. He's not sure if it's a blessing or a curse. He does know he shouldn't open them, but also knows he is in no mindset to resist the pull to Seungkwan. He tosses his towel somewhere behind him and curls into his makeshift nest before opening the texts.

The first one reads simply: _'Hey. Was thinking about you. Hope you're doing alright, please text when you can.'_

Then, almost immediately after: _'Shoot. Am I allowed to text you or is that also no good?'_

There's a few flustered texts about whether or not he should unsend the messages before complete silence and then, ten minutes after the last text, a wall of words. Mingyu's stomach flips and he closes his eyes. For the first time in his life, he thinks as viciously as he can: _I fucking hate being an omega_. He hasn't even read the long message but the anticipation and the desire for Seungkwan, specifically, has him so wet that his thighs are slippery. Humiliation and guilt pummel Mingyu, but he knows Seungkwan would not fault him for this. Seungkwan would pet his head and tell him he was good and strong for putting up with his unreasonable instincts. Seungkwan would hug him. God, Mingyu wants a hug.

 _'I think I shouldn't say this,'_ reads the first line. Mingyu takes a shaky breath.

_'I think I shouldn't say this. But...it's driving me crazy. It's so weird knowing that you are across the city suffering in this very specific way and I can't help you. In fact, me trying to help you would only hurt you. It's a weird, frustrating kind of helplessness and it feels so...wrong? Bad? It was different that night we were together, when I thought you were in heat. Because I didn't...well I didn't really know you, Kim Mingyu. I was afraid of your heat then...and when you told me about it this time, I thought I would be afraid again. I expected it.'_

_'I'm not, though,'_ Seungkwan writes, and Mingyu has no control over his hand as it goes between his legs once again. _'I don't feel scared at all but I am so anxious and frustrated, almost angry, that I can't do something as simple as get drinks for you or wipe your sweat. I wish I could do something. Not something sexual, I wouldn't have to be inside you or anything'_

The message ends there. The last word is cut off, as if Seungkwan pressed send too early. Mingyu is trembling so much he can barely type, but he manages to write _'But?'_ and press send.

 _'You read them,'_ Seungkwan replies not a minute later. _'Are you okay?'_

Mingyu feels ' _NO_ ,' with his entire being, but that's not important. What's important is the rest of Seungkwan's sentence. _'I'm okay,'_ he fibs. _'What were you saying?'_

 _'Oh,'_ Seungkwan writes. _'It's nothing; you should focus on getting better.'_

Mingyu lets go of his dick so he can clench his fists so hard they hurt and let out a strangled snarl of frustration. He can't—he doesn't have the motor skills _or_ the higher brain function to drag the words out of Seungkwan. He knows that's the point—that's why he shouldn't be talking to Seungkwan—but... He flops on his side and palms at his crotch with futility, wishing his sheets still smelled like Seungkwan. Wishing he hadn't freaked out that first night they were together. If he hadn't made it weird, maybe Seungkwan would be here right now, fucking Mingyu until he doesn't know his own name.

His phone chimes and he sobs. He doesn't want it. It's not enough. He wants Seungkwan in his bed or _nothing_. He'd kill any other person who walked through his door. He feels that certainty down to the marrow of his bones. Texting isn't enough. Calling isn't enough. He can only be satiated by touching Seungkwan skin to skin.

The phone chimes again and Mingyu miserably opens his phone. _'I'm trying to abide by your own rules, Mingyu-ssi :('_ Seungkwan writes. Mingyu deflates, cheek squashed against his arm.

 _'It's hard for me, too,'_ the second one says.

 _'Why,'_ Mingyu writes back, too defeated to be righteously furious at Seungkwan for thinking he could ever understand what this feels like. Seungkwan is on suppressants. The blind suffering of heat and rut during the Season is different from the targeted need that skewers Mingyu now.

 _'Do you think I care so little about you?'_ Seungkwan responds. _'I've helped acquaintances with their heats before.'_

The words hurt Mingyu far, far more than he was expecting. He's stunned by the rush of possessive fury that washes through his veins at the same time as the ice bath of knowing he could have asked Seungkwan to help him, and Seungkwan would have said yes.

 _'Come over now,'_ Mingyu starts to write but he knows he can't do that; that's not fair to put on Seungkwan. Mingyu cannot consent like this. He is out of his mind. He doesn't know what he would say or do if he asked Seungkwan and Seungkwan denied him, not in this state. He erases the message and sends a simple, _'Hate it,'_ instead and closes his eyes. His phone chimes a few more times but he lets the exhaustion of misery knock him unconscious.

He wakes up after five hours of sleep, still hard and still exhausted, but much more exhausted than restless. His heat will break in a few hours. He gets off mechanically, eats and drinks, and showers again. He climbs back into his bed. He has reached the point where he realizes how disgusting his bed has become but he's too tired to do anything about it and the blankets are comforting once again. He excavates a new hole in his nest and wraps a fuzzy blanket around himself, accidentally flinging his phone on the floor.

Oh. Right. He had been texting Seungkwan. His cock twitches and he drags a hand over his face. It'll eat at him if he doesn't read the messages. He knows it. Mingyu picks his phone up off the ground and opens it to their conversation.

 _'Hate it,'_ he'd said, with no clarification or sense of any kind. He's unsurprised to see Seungkwan respond with _'Hate what?'_ and then a bunch of question marks in consecutive texts when he gets no response.

But then: _'I'm sorry for bringing it up. I shouldn't have. You're independent and I know that. You don't need me or anyone else to help you, I just'_

Cut off again. He left the text hanging for two hours before, once again, a giant wall of text, this one frantic and riddled with spelling errors that make Mingyu's heart race with _what, what, what has him so flustered?_

 _'This is selfish I'm sorry,'_ Seungkwan says. _'I shouldn't do this I shouldn't have texted you in the first place but honestly I can only think of you Kim Mingyu I can't focus on my work and I snapped at noona and she sent me home ACTUALLY SENT ME HOME because I was so useless and irritable but it didn't help I just keep pacing the house thinking about you by yourself and I know I KNOW you're fine but I'm not I wish_ — _'_

Mingyu doesn't dare breathe.

 _'_ — _I WISH I was there with you because even if you can do it on your own you shouldn't have to and if it's not me fine someone else your other alpha friend whatever but someone who cares because even if I only go into rut once a year I know it hurts I know it makes you crazy and knowing you're hurt makes me feel like I am burning alive.'_

 _'I would fucking hate if you found someone else to help you, though,'_ Seungkwan writes. _'No one should see you in that state. It's personal and only really trustworthy people should be allowed to see it. If it's anything like how you were that night,'_ he cuts himself off again.

 _'God none of these texts make any sense,'_ Seungkwan says. _'I'm sorry Mingyu-hyung. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm really going to stop now. Please tell me when you feel better. Please.'_

And the final message: _'I miss you.'_

In the last hours of Mingyu's heat, he shuts himself off from guilt and shame. He reads the texts until the words are burned into his mind, wraps a hand around himself, presses his face into a pillow, and comes with Seungkwan's name on his tongue over and over again. He lets himself remember Seungkwan's scent and his touch. He lives in the memory of Seungkwan blowing him and climbing over him, and in the memory of them curled together in this very bed and falling asleep as one. He thinks only of Seungkwan's nose and his eyes and his hair falling in his face and how well his body fits in Mingyu's arms. He thinks of Seungkwan saying _I wish I was there with you. I would fucking hate it if you found someone else. I miss you_.

 _Me too, me too, me too_ , Mingyu thinks, his entire body straining towards the memory of Seungkwan, prostrating himself before him. _I won't think of anyone else_ , Mingyu promises in his mind even if there is no one to hear it.

He breaks his heat in three hours.

\---XXX---

_'I miss you too,'_ Mingyu sends a day later, once he and his apartment is clean and the exhaustion of his heat's wane has started to lift. He's still lazy and sore and dehydrated, but he manages to set up camp on the living room couch while he runs the diffuser in his bedroom.

 _'God,'_ Seungkwan responds. _'I thought I'd never hear from you again. Is it over?'_

 _'Yes,'_ Mingyu says. _'I'm back to normal, if a little dehydrated. And I won't be doing much heavy lifting at work for the next couple days. Sore.'_

 _'You're going back tomorrow?'_ Seungkwan asks.

 _'Duty calls,'_ Mingyu replies. _'And my apartment stinks.'_

 _'I have a diffuser if you would like to borrow it,'_ Seungkwan offers.

 _'Thanks,'_ Mingyu says, _'but I have one blasting eucalyptus right now.'_

Seungkwan isn't rising to any of Mingyu's baits. He seems unusually subdued and for a heart-stopping moment Mingyu wonders if Seungkwan could somehow know that Mingyu had used him to break his heat and was disgusted. But that didn't make sense. Seungkwan had offered to help. And in a way, he had. Mingyu thinks about telling him that he had come calling Seungkwan's name but suddenly the light, casual tone of their conversations feels horribly, horribly wrong.

 _'Seungkwannie,'_ Mingyu prompts lightly. _'What's wrong?'_

 _'Please tell me straight up,'_ Seungkwan responds and Mingyu's heart sinks. _'Are you upset with me? Do you hate me for what I said? I'm sorry I broke your rules. I'm so fucking sorry.'_

Blindsided, Mingyu says "Huh?" out loud.

 _'Upset with you?'_ Mingyu says. _'For texting me? That's my fault. I broke the rules first. If anything you should be mad at me for making you worried like that.'_

 _'Mad at you? Don't be ridiculous hyung,'_ Seungkwan responds a little frantically. _'I said all of that unprompted, when you were in such a delicate situation, all because I selfishly wanted to tell you how I felt. It was not the time or place. It was highly inappropriate.'_

He's not entirely wrong. But Mingyu started it. And Mingyu enabled it when he could have just turned off his phone and thrown it across the room. _'It's fine, Seungkwannie. No harm, no foul. You were just worried.'_

 _'But you said you hated it,'_ Seungkwan responds.

And suddenly Mingyu understands. That ambiguous _'Hate it'_ message, Seungkwan thought he meant...

 _'Oh, baby,'_ Mingyu says. _'I hated the thought of you helping other people through their heats. Not the thought of you helping me. That...I wanted very much.'_

 _'Oh,'_ Seungkwan says.

Then: _'You wanted me there?'_

Mingyu feels liquid warmth spread through his veins, comforting and slow-moving. Certainty, suddenly, that he knows where he stands with Seungkwan and where Seungkwan stands with him. _'I only thought of you,'_ Mingyu says, _'the entirety of my heat. I only wanted you. I only want you.'_

 _'Oh,'_ Seungkwan says again. Mingyu laughs into his hand. He's not used to being able to leave Seungkwan speechless so easily.

 _'Um, me fucking too, obviously,'_ Seungkwan sends a couple minutes later. _'I thought I was really going crazy but I looked it up, and.'_ He pauses. _'Yeah. That serious level of territoriality only happens when, um.'_

 _'When you really, really like someone,'_ Mingyu finishes for him. _'I'm familiar with the feeling.'_

 _'Wow,'_ Seungwan says. _'I was waiting for you to say you're through with me.'_

 _'Not as long as you'll have me,'_ Mingyu says.

 _'Okay, so like, forever, basically,'_ Seungkwan says. _'Wow. So when am I seeing you again? As soon as possible, please.'_

 _'Weekend?'_ Mingyu offers. _'I...well I would like to not be dying of exhaustion from either work or fucking myself to death when I see you next.'_

 _'Weekend,'_ Seungkwan agrees.

\---XXX---

_There is a place_ , says a line in a book that caught Mingyu's eye when he was snooping through Minghao's stuff back in university. _In every person there are many kinds of places, and within each of those places even more people with places inside them, too. But those are places and I'm not talking about **places** ; I'm talking about **a place** , only one, that exists just once for just one person. A certain moment. A certain place. There is a place like that for everyone._

Mingyu's eyes are closed against the high sun but for once the light scraping at his eyes is welcome and warm, countering the flighty breeze that occasionally washes over the grass and the blanket he's lying on. He's on the good end of too-warm, letting the sun catch on his face and the tops of his hands and the space between the cuff of his sweatpants and his socks like a plant. He's warm. He's full. He's breathing fresh air. And his head is pillowed on Seungkwan's thigh while Seungkwan cards his fingers through Mingyu's bangs.

There is a place, Mingyu agrees silently.

A shadow covers his face and he cracks one eye open to see Seungkwan leaning over and looking at him upside down. "You have a booger in your nose," Seungkwan informs him solemnly.

Mingyu closes his eye again and smiles. "And I'm letting him stay rent-free. How kind am I?"

Seungkwan makes a mild sound of disgust but doesn't stop petting Mingyu's hair. "You're a brute," he says. "A true caveman with no charm whatsoever."

"I want a grape," Mingyu pipes up.

"Oh sure, just lie there and let your fellow hunter-gatherer Australopithecus do all the hard work in a pitiful attempt at wooing his potential mate."

"You're so sexy when you use big words for a bit," Mingyu says cheerfully. "I want a grape!"

"And a grape he shall get," Seungkwan relents. He plucks one of the unusually fat black grapes they had seen at a fruit vendor on their walk here and presses it to Mingyu's lips. Mingyu accepts the grape and shoves it into the pocket of his cheek before kissing Seungkwan's fingers gratefully. Above him, Mingyu hears the soft puff of a laugh. He chews the grape with a smile on his face.

They're on his side of the Han River, parked in the middle of one of the green lawns dotting the riverside on top of a tablecloth-turned-picnic-blanket with two empty cups of iced coffee and a large pizza box holding down the far side. It's unseasonably warm, heralding the coming spring, and Mingyu and Seungkwan are far from the only people taking advantage of the good weather. There are two couples within hearing range and a big family with three little kids running around, but barefaced and wearing sweatpants and pullovers, Mingyu and Seungkwan aren't drawing any attention to themselves. They could be anyone. Mingyu feels like anyone.

"I like this," Mingyu says simply.

"Like what?" Seungkwan's thumb smooths the hair at his temple.

Mingyu shrugs in response.

"The mystery continues..." Seungkwan mutters.

Mingyu grins. "I don't know. The sun? Hearing those kids playing. City sounds. You. Grapes...maybe it's mostly grapes. Is there any pizza left?"

(They'd split it. Seungkwan ordered half veggie and Mingyu half meat lovers, but as soon as the smell hit them, Seungkwan only had eyes for Mingyu's side, bemoaning his tendency to default to veggie for the sake of appearances at work. Mingyu, forgetting to customize his order to include green peppers, eyed Seungkwan's pile of peppers with envy. As with all things related to Mingyu and Seungkwan, even mistakes turned in their favor.)

"No," Seungkwan says, tweaking his nose. "Someone packed it all into his potbelly. Seriously, where do you put all those calories?"

"Height," Mingyu says. Seungkwan actually makes to get up and kick Mingyu off his lap and Mingyu laughs, flipping onto his belly to wrap his arms around Seungkwan's middle and keep him anchored to the blanket. "Nooooo," Mingyu whines, still laughing a little. "Come on, the setup was right there. I'm sorry. I like you very much."

"Should've taken those disgusting vitamins my mom always nagged me about as a kid," Seungkwan grumbles. "Then maybe I'd be tall even if I ended up scrawny."

"No way," Mingyu protests. "You're better like this."

"A likely answer from one who's looking to get laid."

"But if you're scrawny," Mingyu begins innocently, "then what would happen to this?" Seungkwan's oversized hoodie disguises Mingyu's hands as he slides them over Seungkwan's butt and squeezes.

Seungkwan yips and smacks Mingyu. " _That_ ," Seungkwan says, "is a family heirloom. I would have it regardless. You rotten little exhibitionist." He says the last part a little too loudly and his eyes dart from side to side to make sure nobody heard him. Mingyu presses his face into Seungkwan's stomach and giggles.

"Mingyu-hyung," Seungkwan says in that voice that means he wants Mingyu's attention. Mingyu looks up. Seungkwan's eyes are half-lidded and he's doing that little almost-smile that makes Mingyu's cartoon heart strain out of his chest. Mingyu sits up on his elbows and cocks his head to the side, hopeful.

Seungkwan's hands fold around the sides of Mingyu's neck. He leans forward to press his mouth to Mingyu's. He's lazy and deliberate like their day off calls for but Mingyu is restless. He pushes in, nose to cheek, and nips at Seungkwan's lips. Seungkwan's fingers tighten around Mingyu's neck and he parts his lips so Mingyu can slide his tongue in, which is, of course, when Mingyu's phone goes off.

He ignores it because—hello—making out with a hot boy, but Seungkwan only tolerates Mingyu trying to kiss his attention away from the phone for two rings before he's pushing Mingyu back. "It could be important," he says, voice tellingly thick.

"It could be work," Mingyu says, trying to kiss Seungkwan again and only getting the corner of his mouth. "I'm busy."

"Work is important," Seungkwan says. "Work is—money and things."

"I'm busy," Mingyu insists, this time successfully putting his mouth on Seungkwan's. Seungkwan makes a small noise of protest—or resigned delight, Mingyu can't tell—before letting Mingyu push him onto his back for more persistent kissing. The phone goes silent. Mingyu wonders how mad Seungkwan will be if he cops a feel again. Mostly he wants to hear Seungkwan make that embarrassed squeak he does when caught off guard.

Mingyu's phone goes off again.

Mingyu groans, resting his forehead on the center of Seungkwan's chest.

"'Sorry to bother you on your day off, Mingyu, but Allen suddenly couldn't come in and we need someone for the shoot...'" Seungkwan says, imitating Sangyeon's voice.

"No," Mingyu groans. Sangyeon wouldn’t push his luck like this. "It's Hao."

He sits back and Seungkwan follows him up, draping himself around Mingyu's shoulders. Mingyu fumbles for his phone and answers it with, "Shangri-la Spa and Nails, is this Xu Minghao calling about his—" he checks his watch, "—two-thirty pube waxing appointment? The discount offer to include your asshole still stands if—"

" _You think you're so funny Kim Mingyu_ ," Minghao cuts him off. " _I'm a Scorpio; this can't possibly end well for you._ "

"Eh, I'll take my chances," Mingyu says.

" _Okay, pisslord. Are you busy right now? I just assumed you were jerking off_."

"No, I'm free right now— _ack!_ " Seungkwan, who had been miming 'speaker' since Mingyu answered the phone, finally flares his nostrils and pinches Mingyu hard in the side. "What was that for?"

" _Scratch that_ — _you were jerking someone else off. I can call later if_ —"

"No!" Seungkwan protests. "Now is fine! Let me talk to Myungho-hyung you cretin—"

" _Since you can't see me, I'll tell you I'm rolling my eyes_ ," Minghao says. " _Put me on speaker and stop torturing Seungkwannie_."

Mingyu obeys. "I don't think you need to tell me that, actually. I always imagine you rolling your eyes at whatever I say."

" _Basically accurate_ ," Minghao says. " _Hi, Seungkwannie. Sorry for ruining your date._ "

"We are quite literally doing nothing," Seungkwan says. "Well, hyung is trying to crush my ribcage with his body weight alone, but other than that."

Mingyu, happily snuggled back-to-chest between Seungkwan's legs, asks: "What's up, Hao?"

Minghao sighs into the receiver. " _I have another reading and I can't worm my way out of this one. Kanghyun-hyung got pissed that I kept cancelling the smaller gigs so he booked me for like, an emerging authors fest or something at one of the bookstores around Hongik University and I **have to** go_."

Mingyu hums sympathetically. "Seems like good press, though."

" _Yeah, ugh, it is_ ," Minghao agrees. " _Hyung always backs me into corners like this that are too good to pass up. I know that's why I hired him, but..._ "

"Still tough. I get it. Need your bestest friend in the whole world there for moral support?"

" _Well I don't know if that's what you do, exactly, but.._." Minghao exhales. " _Please? I'll forward you the details. **Don't** make a scene though, okay, just be like...arm candy. As if in a trance, readers will pick up and buy my memoir while looking at and talking to your biceps_." He pauses. " _Sorry again, Seungkwannie_."

Amused, Seungkwan asks: "What's all this about?"

"Minghao is a big famous essayist promoting his first memoir and his agent is making him go to a reading in front of crowd. Which he hates," Mingyu explains.

" _Abhorrent practice_ ," Minghao mutters. " _It's a personal essay. **Personal.** What sort of voyeuristic pricks want to hear me read my sob story about moving to Korea out loud?_"

"The tenderness with which you refer to your readers is astounding," Seungkwan says.

" _I'm rolling my eyes at you, too_ ," Minghao says. " _Anyway, I usually ask Minggoo to accompany me to these readings and clap very loudly for me and act extremely interested in my essays so I don't have to talk to that many people. He's immune to embarrassment if it's for someone weaker than himself_."

"Mingyu-hyung the actor?" Seungkwan says, raising an eyebrow. "Now that's something I'd love to see."

" _You're also welcome to attend, of course_ ," Minghao says. " _Though I would say it depends on your tolerance for secondhand embarrassment. He is **very** loud_."

"I'm a big fan of skit-based comedy," Seungkwan says. "I'm sure we can come up with a script before the date."

" _And just like that...uninvited_."

Seungkwan laughs quietly, burying his face in the crown of Mingyu's head. Spiritually sandwiched between his two favorite people in the world, Mingyu feels completely whole. "Aw, c'mon, Hao. You would really deny Seungkwannie the one-of-a-kind experience of my explosive fake tears? This is a crying one, right?"

" _Yes, drama queen, this is a crying one_ ," Minghao says, amused. To Seungkwan, he says, " _He has this dramatic crying routine that he does during my especially sad essays when I start getting really uncomfortable. The looks on everyone's faces when he throws his face into his arm, bawling...it's beyond words_." Minghao's voice turns smug. " _That is, unless he starts actually crying_."

"Nooo," Mingyu whines. "Don't tell him about that, Hao!"

" _It's very cute_ ," Minghao says. " _First time it happened I signaled him to start crying but didn't hear anything. When I looked up I caught him in a full body sniff with a runny nose, first row in the center. And then when I finished the reading he pulled me into a hug that cracked all my vertebrae_."

"You're a bit of a sympathetic crier, aren't you?" Seungkwan tuts.

"No," Mingyu says at the same time Minghao says, " _Yes_."

"Ugh, whatever," Mingyu grumbles. "It was one time."

" _Four times, so far_ ," Minghao corrects cheerfully. " _But we can change that. As a special treat, for Seungkwannie_."

"Wow," Mingyu says. "Are you really gonna make me cry in front of my boyfriend?"

The slip is out before Mingyu can bite his tongue and choke it back. He tries not to stiffen up but there's no way to disguise the utter stillness of his body in shock at his own presumptiveness. His heart thumps.

He waits for Minghao to call him on it and crack a joke but all Minghao says is, " _Maybe. Maybe not. Guess it depends on how low the V of your shirt is. Put those tatas to use and get to distracting everyone_."

"I'll make sure to wrestle him into something a little too small and a little too unbuttoned just for you, hyung," Seungkwan says, no trace of disturbance in his voice.

Minghao sighs dramatically. " _How did I ever live without knowing you, Seungkwan-ah?_ "

Seungkwan shakes his head even though Minghao can't see it. "Truly a shame it took this long. Send the event information to noona, please?"

" _You got i_ _t_ ," Minghao says. " _Well, I won't take up any more of your time. Enjoy your date, you two._ "

"Thanks," Mingyu says hoarsely.

"Thank you, hyung," Seungkwan says. "Bye-bye."

The line goes dead and there is a single moment of stillness as another soft gust of wind rolls over the grass. Neither of them say anything.

And then, Mingyu is flipping over, sitting back on his heels between Seungkwan's legs and making his most pitiful, apologetic face. "I'm sorry, Seungkwan-ah," Mingyu says. "That slip earlier—I didn't mean to."

"What slip?" Seungkwan asks. He sits up straighter and looks directly at Mingyu.

"The—uh," Mingyu fumbles. "I told—to Minghao I called—" He swallows. "I, uh, called you my boyfriend. But I didn't mean to make any sort of assumption! About your feelings. On. Um."

"Yes?" Seungkwan is closer to him now, offering a slow blink and his full attention.

"On...er. Becoming my boyfriend. I know we had that talk earlier this week but I don't take that as confirmation of anything, I swear! I would never just assume you want to be my boyfriend. Or that you would be okay with me referring to you that way."

"Uh-huh."

"It's just, well, I think you would be a really great boyfriend. For me. Or for anyone! You're really fun to spend time with and you always listen to me wholeheartedly and you only tease me when it's funny to both of us and your mannerisms are very cute but you are very handsome and sometimes very sexy and you make me feel special, and seen, and..." Mingyu trails off. Seungkwan is very close to his face.

"Mm, I see," Seungkwan says, smiling. "Go on."

"And...I just think you would be good at being my boyfriend," Mingyu mumbles, eyes flitting between Seungkwan's eyes and his mouth. "So it kind of...slipped out."

Seungkwan's lips touch Mingyu's, still smiling, as he asks: "Would you like to find out?"

\---XXX---

It's Mingyu's side of the river so naturally—they end up back at his place.

Mingyu feels stupid and clumsy, his fingers fumbling with the keypad to his apartment, but it's hard to think when Seungkwan is kissing the back of his neck, below his ear, the knob of his spine. When Seungkwan's hands are beneath Mingyu's loose sweater, petting his stomach and his sides and sliding up his chest. He enters the code wrong twice and swears much louder than usual. His fingers are stopped and gently pushed aside by Seungkwan. Seungkwan's fingers glide over the keypad, getting it right the first time.

"Silly boy," he murmurs somewhere below Mingyu's right ear and Mingyu's insides become jelly.

He leverages his height against Seungkwan, pushing him through the doorway and into the small foyer. Seungkwan only gets one shoe off before Mingyu's hands are on his face, pulling Seungkwan against him and pushing him against the wall at the same time. It feels so good. Kissing Seungkwan—yes, of course. But being allowed to manhandle him like this; to hold and to push and to meld Seungkwan against him is satisfying like snapping a puzzle piece into place. Seungkwan seems dizzy when Mingyu pulls away, stumbling as he pulls off his other shoe and giggling helplessly as he crashes against Mingyu's chest.

"We...should go somewhere else," Seungkwan says.

"Somewhere with less edges?" Mingyu suggests.

Seungkwan elbows him in the ribs. "Somewhere horizontal." And then, with affection dripping in his voice and written on his face: "Asshole."

It's surreal to Mingyu. He trails his boyfriend down the hall. He stares at his boyfriend standing in the center of his room, sunbeams and dust motes turning him glittering and gold. His boyfriend takes Mingyu's hand and pulls him closer, pulls Mingyu over him, and they collapse onto Mingyu's bed, all smiles. When Mingyu looks down, his boyfriend's hair is fanned across his grey sheets like a halo. His boyfriend, Boo Seungkwan.

"Wow," Mingyu breathes.

"My clothes are still on," Seungkwan says, almost a laugh. "Might want to save the praises until someone gets naked."

"Nah," Mingyu says. "We can make this work, can't we?" He drops his hips and ghosts a long slide of his body over Seungkwan's thigh.

He means it to be a joke, but Seungkwan's eyes flash. His voice is deceptively light when he says, "Well, easy for you to say. You have more than one fitting pair of pants in this apartment."

"Touché," Mingyu says, and pulls his hoodie off.

Seungkwan's hands rise to hold Mingyu below his ribs, as if magnetized. "You shouldn't be allowed to do that so easily," he says. "It's a crime against humanity. What am I supposed to do with all this?" He doesn't wait for an answer. He pulls Mingyu down and over him to drag his teeth over Mingyu's abdomen.

Mingyu's muscles tense and he lets out a surprised gasp that melts into a groan as Seungkwan's tongue traces the outline of his abdomen. "Shit, Seungkwannie—"

"Did you think I was lying?" Seungkwan murmurs. "I told you I wouldn't be able to contain myself if you took your shirt off." Mingyu remembers that, distantly. Hot fingers against his stomach, moving across and up. Brushing a nipple accidentally, then not-so-accidentally. "And now, in full sun—hold on."

Seungkwan pushes Mingyu back up so he rests on his heels, sunbeams through the blinds arching in reverse tiger stripes across his bare chest.

"That's right," Seungkwan says. "That's how I want to see you." He runs his middle finger down Mingyu's chest from sternum to the hem of his sweatpants. "Look at you," Seungkwan says, and Mingyu flushes with pride. He's used to being admired. He knows he is beautiful. But Seungkwan really drinks in every detail, looking, touching, and tasting. It throws Mingyu off. It makes him feel new.

"Not really fair," Mingyu mumbles. "You've seen me naked plenty of times but I haven't seen you even once."

"I'm not the one itching to pull my shirt off at any given moment," Seungkwan reminds him, amused.

"Well, yeah, but..." Mingyu flushes harder. "You don't have to be monkish about it."

"I took my shirt off that first time," Seungkwan says. "Have you forgotten?"

No, of course not, but Mingyu isn't thinking of Seungkwan's bare chest. He's been ignoring Seungkwan hard against Mingyu's thigh the same way Seungkwan has been ignoring the tenting in the front of Mingyu's sweats. It's all very good and proper of them, pretending that they aren't turned on by each other, but the pretense loses its appeal more and more every time Mingyu allows himself to think, _Seungkwan's cock right there, right against my thigh_.

"Not the same," Mingyu says finally.

"Eager, are we?" Seungkwan teases. "It's almost like someone has been cockblocking you to a frankly exhausting and unnecessary degree."

"Seungkwan-ah," Mingyu says, swaying back and forth slightly, "I want to see it." Seungkwan tilts his head in confusion, but before he can say anything, Mingyu closes his eyes and says: "Your knot."

When he opens them again, all signs of teasing are gone from Seungkwan's face. He lies back, superficially relaxed with his hands now resting on his stomach, but Mingyu's words have changed his composure. It's heavy in the air between them, suddenly—alpha and omega. Without the fog of heat, Mingyu feels the burn of desire rise achingly slow through his insides. The way Seungkwan looks at him now—it's like Mingyu can read his mind. He can see Seungkwan thinking, _I am going to be inside you_ , and as if reflected, Mingyu can see himself in his mind's eye on his back with his teeth clenched around his hand, trying not to collapse as Seungkwan's knot catches on his rim. He swallows thickly, trying to choke down the want as much as the saliva gathering in his mouth.

"Pervert," Seungkwan murmurs.

He sits up. Mingyu sputters, trying to come up with some sort of explanation or excuse, but Seungkwan talks over him. "Honestly," he says with a sigh, "it's nothing special. You've seen porn. You know what a knot looks like. There's nothing to write home about; sorry to disappoint." He pulls his shirt over his head. He casts a shadow over Mingyu, the light catching on his shoulders and forearms and painting his edges with lines of fire. Mingyu ducks in to kiss Seungkwan's collarbone. Feels compelled to.

"You don't have to be so respectful," Seungkwan murmurs. "You're older than me, hyung."

Mingyu kisses up Seungkwan's neck, open-mouthed. Seungkwan tilts his head up and to the side, lets Mingyu nuzzle beneath his jaw and kiss and taste the scent he finds there. "I want to do this," Mingyu says in a rough voice, his lips catching on Seungkwan's skin. "I want—"

"I know," Seungkwan says.

He starts to shimmy his sweatpants past his waist. Mingyu leans back, wired from Seungkwan's scent up his nose and all the synapses his pheromones light up in Mingyu's brain. It's a little like stepping from the deck into a pool—knowing where you'll land but your body still feels like it's falling. Seungkwan rolls his shoulders back and pulls down the front of his briefs. His eyes are on Mingyu.

And Mingyu—oh, he expected how much Seungkwan's cock would turn him on. He knows his fetish well. He has let it torment him many a night. He expects the compulsion to touch with fingers and mouth and tongue, but not this feeling of—of _gratitude_ , of _adoration_ blooming in his chest. That Seungkwan would let him see this and have this. He gets it now—this is the piety of an omega. Not the frenzy of heat but the quiet reverence of wanting to love and serve and offer his mate anything and everything.

Mingyu sinks down, between Seungkwan's thighs. He presses his cheek to Seungkwan's thigh and inches closer, turning his eyes to Seungkwan. "May I?"

"I've thought about it," Seungkwan says, voice thick. "This moment. What you would look like."

"Is it like you imagined?"

Seungkwan shakes his head. "Not even close." He reaches out to brush Mingyu's bangs from his eyes. "I didn't think you would—" He swallows. "How can you look at me like this?"

"How can I not?" Mingyu doesn't even have to think. It's ingrained into his very soul—this all-encompassing love. He was meant to be here.

Seungkwan shakes his head again. "I imagined it, but—" He cups Mingyu's cheek. "Whatever you want," he says, "I want. Whatever you want to do; I want it, too."

Mingyu's eyelashes flutter. "I want to suck it," he says. "Just the knot."

Seungkwan's fingers twitch against Mingyu's cheek. His eyes close. "You're unreal," he whispers.

The words ripple down Mingyu's bare spine, all the hairs on his arms and legs rising. He kisses Seungkwan's inner thigh, soft as dough, and Seungkwan's breath catches. "Tell me I can," Mingyu whispers back.

"You can," Seungkwan says.

Later, when Seungkwan has Mingyu on his back and is sliding fingers inside him, all he can say is, "Oh, Minggoo. Oh, you're so easy for me."

Mingyu knows. It doesn't make the warm surprise in Seungkwan's voice have any less of an effect on him. Mingyu whimpers low in the back of his throat. He's wreathed in the scent of Seungkwan's approval and pride, as clear as if Seungkwan had said _good boy, good boy_ aloud. Mingyu pushes his hips up to drive Seungkwan's fingers further and he's hit with a sharp note of furious arousal as a reward.

"Okay," Seungkwan says. "Okay."

It shouldn't be possible for something to feel so right. But Seungkwan finally— _finally_ —pressing inside him flips a set of switches Mingyu didn't even know he had. The way his knot catches as he moves—Mingyu knows in his muscle and bones that he has to have it inside him. He will be sick if he can't have it. He pushes back, writhing against Seungkwan and babbling senselessly.

"Baby," he begs, "baby, please—harder, okay? Harder, I just need—just a little bit, please—you're so close to—please, _please_ —"

"Shhh," Seungkwan soothes him. "I've got you. I've got you."

It's not just Mingyu. Seungkwan's lips quiver when he kisses Mingyu. His hands clutching at Mingyu's thighs shake. They feel the rightness of it together—the anticipation of freefall once they are connected in that way. Inseparable; tied together like a sail to a boat. Forever for a moment. It makes Seungkwan salivate. It makes Mingyu frantic.

And then—inside. Seungkwan lets out an inhuman snarl and latches his teeth to the junction of Mingyu's neck and shoulder, drawing blood and not letting go. Mingyu's back arches and he nearly bucks Seungkwan off him with eyes wide. A key turning in a lock. Mingyu sob-howls.

This, this, this, _this_. He's lived twenty-five years for this, for Boo Seungkwan sprawled across his chest and stuck in him. Their sweat and scent mixes until they taste and smell the same. Alpha and omega. No beginning and no end, just Kim Mingyu and Boo Seungkwan and the ghost of rightness swallowing them whole. They lock eyes in the moment after, both wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Mingyu smiles first but Seungkwan laughs first. Mingyu cannot find a single sense that differentiates them into two people. One—they are one.

"I didn't know it could feel like that," Seungkwan says. "I haven't even come yet." He laughs again, a joyful little chirp that makes Mingyu's heart soar.

"Then keep going, baby," Mingyu says. "Let's keep going."

"Was it everything you hoped it would be?" Seungkwan asks afterwards, once they've gotten cleaned up and are snuggled under Mingyu's thick comforter. His cold toes poke Mingyu's and Mingyu grunts.

"Are you really asking me if I liked the sex?" he asks. "I would have thought the whole 'multiple orgasms' deal would speak for itself."

Seungkwan swats his shoulder but is unable to disengage Mingyu from wrapping him in his arms and his legs like an affectionate squid. "Not that. I know I give bomb dick." Mingyu snorts. "Was it what you expected, being with an alpha?"

Mingyu scrunches his nose. "Um. I guess? I kind of stopped thinking about it once you knotted me."

"You guess." Seungkwan lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I thought it was this _big_ , big deal to you, sleeping with an alpha."

"Mm, yeah," Mingyu agrees. "It was. But I don't really care anymore. I don't think it matters." Seungkwan inhales deeply, surely to mount some kind of protest. "I mean," Mingyu interrupts quickly. "It's not that it doesn't matter. It's just that...I don't want to 'sleep with an alpha' anymore. I only want to sleep with you."

Seungkwan kicks him. "That is so lame. And embarrassing. I can't believe you just said that."

But Mingyu can smell it on Seungkwan, the ironclad territoriality a statement like that provokes in him. Seungkwan's scent agrees wholeheartedly with the idea of Mingyu sleeping with him and only him until the end of time. He's pleased with Mingyu's devotion. Seungkwan probably doesn't even notice how he pulls Mingyu closer to him despite his verbal protests.

It's so good. Mingyu feels safe and protected. Seungkwan wants him so much. Maybe even as much as Mingyu wants Seungkwan. He can't remember feeling this good after sex...ever. He tells Seungkwan so.

"Good," Seungkwan huffs. "Stupid. You know what? You're right. Forget your weird alpha fetish. It would be a waste of time to find some other alpha to hook up with. For one—I'm a way better cuddler. I'm going to cuddle you so well that you'll cry when I leave."

"Okay," Mingyu says happily. "I'm not gonna let you go, though."

"Pity," Seungkwan says. He doesn't sound even a little upset, though.

\---XXX---

"Tell me something I don't know about you."

Mingyu closes the dryer door with his butt and turns to Seungkwan, sitting atop one of the washers with his feet dangling. Seungkwan's expression is warm. Mingyu smiles. "Something you don't know? Like what?"

"A Kim Mingyu fact!"

"I got measured at my last checkup and apparently I'm 187.3 centimeters tall now," Mingyu says matter-of-factly, measuring out detergent for his dark load. "That's _point-three_ centimeters taller than last time."

Seungkwan huffs and rolls his eyes. "Not that kind of fact. That's boring."

He pours the detergent over his clothes and closes the lid, punching in the settings and starting the wash before turning to Seungkwan with a dramatic flourish. " _Well_ ," Mingyu says. "I can't let Seungkwannie get bored." Seungkwan's wearing the same sweats from yesterday and one of Mingyu's T-shirts. It hangs off of one shoulder and Mingyu absentmindedly pushes the neckline further up Seungkwan's shoulders. He leans in, thighs boxing in Seungkwan's knees and one hand covering Seungkwan's next to his thigh. "What do you want to know?"

Seungkwan meets his eyes with ease. He hums thoughtfully. "Your dream," Seungkwan decides after a moment, sitting straighter.

"My dream?"

"Yes. You're a photographer with a stable career, but surely you have a dream shoot or a dream vacation or some kind of crazy goal to aim towards."

Mingyu picks up Seungkwan's hand and brushes his mouth over his knuckles. "You really want to know?"

"Yes," Seungkwan says, though his voice sounds a little faint.

Mingyu furrows his brow and lets their fingers slide together. A dry, soft linking of hands. "It may be a little different than you imagine," he says. "Don't be too disappointed."

Seungkwan's free hand finds Mingyu's bicep and squeezes gently. "Tell me?"

"It’s silly, but…I love...land," Mingyu says. "Just—the open expanse of land stretching in every direction. I grew up in the city, you know, so I've only seen open landscapes on family vacations or the occasional work trip. Hao and I went to Vietnam once—backpacked outside of Hanoi—and...I don't know. Maybe I'm in love with the idea of it, but I swear I've never felt so at peace." His smile turns inwards, directed at a landscape only he can see. "I don't make an overwhelming amount of money. But I've been saving. I figure by the time I retire I'll have enough to buy ten or so acres somewhere down south that I can exist on, in peace. It seems like a good way to wrap up my life."

"What will you do there?" Seungkwan asks.

Mingyu releases Seungkwan's fingers and turns his hand so his palm faces upwards. Mingyu runs his thumb along the lines of Seungkwan's palm and along his fingers. "I'll build," Mingyu says simply.

"Build what?" Seungkwan asks.

"Everything," Mingyu says. "Of course, I'll need some help laying the foundation, but I intend to place every wooden strut and lay every pane of glass. Seal every brick, caulk every gap. The end result...well. It won't be the prettiest house, but it'll be mine, you know? I'll know the quirks and the flaws and the secrets hidden within every wall. And then," Mingyu slots their fingers together again, "I'll start digging."

"Digging." Seungkwan sounds amused.

"Well, you won't catch me buying up non-arable land," Mingyu says. "The soil might need to be refreshed—almost certainly won't be used to farming—but I'll have a compost pile and—don't _laugh_."

"Sorry, sorry," Seungkwan says, covering his mouth. "You were saying?"

Mingyu rolls his eyes. "I'll have a compost pile and a worm farm and then I'll have the richest soil within a hundred kilometers and—and I'll grow things. Anything I want. All kinds of foods."

"Your dream is to be a farmer," Seungkwan says, smiling.

"Why not?" Mingyu says. "I'll be in my late 60's, still young and fit, so why not?"

"You're right," Seungkwan says. "Better than rotting away in an apartment or a nursing home. The fresh air and fresh food—you may live forever yet, Minggoo."

"Right?" Mingyu looks pleased.

"Still..." Seungkwan says. "Seems awfully difficult to do all of that yourself. And lonely. Will no one share your little homestead?"

Seungkwan looks at Mingyu but suddenly Mingyu can't meet his eyes. He swings their interlocked hand back and forth. "I—I hope someone will, of course," Mingyu starts. "But it's a very specific dream and very dull. It's not a life for everyone, so—"

Seungkwan is shaking his head. "What?"

"I asked you to tell me your _dream_ ," Seungkwan says. "Not some goal butchered by realism. Tell me, hyung," Seungkwan's fingers curl in the bottom of Mingyu's shirt, pulling him closer, "tell me your _dream_."

Mingyu swallows. He leans down, presses his face to Seungkwan's temple. His mouth floats somewhere over Seungkwan's ear as he speaks. "Well...if you look closer at the little house I built, you might see a porch out the front. It's not screened in but it's covered; made of good, solid wood and dependable railings. There are two chairs on the porch with a little table between them and a rug in front. Maybe a pair of glasses on the little table—"

"Sikhye," Seungkwan murmurs.

"—yes, alright, two glasses of sikhye with condensation dripping down the sides. I'm out front, shifting the snow peas onto a new trellis, when I hear a voice calling my name. I look up and push back my hat, wiping the sweat from my eyes and then I see, standing on the porch—um," Mingyu coughs lightly. "Um, someone is standing there, waving his arm and hopping up and down like an idiot and making a huge fuss because of some cake he made and I better come get it while it's hot."

"But I can't cook," Seungkwan murmurs. "At all."

"Lucky for you," Mingyu murmurs back, "you have at least thirty years to get better."

Seungkwan laughs out loud at that, leaning back a little to catch Mingyu's eye. "What am I doing sitting around, then?" he asks. "I should get started right away, if I want to make it in time for Mingyu-hyung's dream."

Mingyu's heart squeezes. Seungkwan looks so proud of himself, beaming hard enough to squish his cheeks into round dumplings and his eyelashes fluttering as he giggles at his own joke. The shirt has slipped down his shoulder again.

 _This is mine_ , Mingyu thinks, _for as long as I cherish him._

It's not a decision as much as it is a compulsion to touch Seungkwan's chin, tilting his face up so Mingyu can kiss him. Seungkwan's mouth is warm and smiling and his fingers curl tighter in Mingyu's shirt. Their lips make the sweetest chirp when they part and Seungkwan's cheeks have gone rosy. Mingyu feels it tingling in his fingertips all the way to his core—like pressing his lips to the sun. It sits solid in his chest, the knowledge that he loves this man sitting on a washer in clothes half not his own. Loving Seungkwan is as certain as sun rays behind a curtain—but now is not yet the time to pull them back. It's alright. Mingyu has his whole life to let Seungkwan know how he is loved. But for now—

"Don't run off too quickly," Mingyu says. "I still haven't made us breakfast."

"Mmm," Seungkwan purrs, "yes, spoil me. I have to learn from the best."

"Don't be silly," Mingyu says. "I'm sure there's plenty you can accomplish in the kitchen."

"I can order coffee and carry it in?" Seungkwan suggests.

Mingyu erupts into giggles of his own. "Okay, Seungkwannie. You can cover the coffee. I'll teach you how to cook later. Anything and everything you could ever want to make—I'm that confident." He swallows. "Of course, it may take years for you to get it all down, but I'm prepared to take you on as my student for that long, if you'd like."

Seungkwan blinks slowly. The smile on his face turns soft and achingly pleasant. He pulls Mingyu down just enough for their noses to touch.

Seungkwan says: "I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eagle-eyed readers may note that mingyu's dream seems _very_ familiar....(it's mine) (authorial crime of projecting onto fave boys)
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed this small journey as much as i did! that's all for now but i hope to be back soon with more svt hijinks for boogyu and others :D
> 
> final plug for [my twitter](https://www.twitter.com/whiskerprince): i have periods of shyness on main but i try to respond to everyone who @'s me on the tl and we can all have a silly time together. also, remember to do your part in daily activism for black lives! whether it's donating, signing petitions, donating, or educating people in your life about the importance of BLM and the plague of police brutality, keep up the good work and don't let the momentum die!!


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